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THE BANK ROBBERS; 

OR, 

FAST AND LOOSE. 


BY 

ARTHUR- GRIFFITHS. 




NEW YOBK: 

GEORGE MUNRO’S SONS, PUBLISHERS, 

17 TO 27 VANDEWATER STREET. 





> 


I 


FAST AND LOOSE 


i 

CnA.PTER 1. 

A BANK ROBBERY, 

There was scmething wrong, very wrong, at Waldo’s Bank; or, 
more exactly, at Messrs. Candelent, Dandy, and Waldo’s, the full 
title of the firm generally known by the name of its junior and 
most prominent partner. 

Tlie day’s work had opened rs usual. Precisely as the clock 
struck nine Mr. Waldo had crossed the threshold, as his habit had 
been for the last forty years, lie was always the first to reach, 
oflen the last to leave, the bank. The rest of the chrks and em- 
ployes had followed close upon Mr. Waldo’s heels. Only the chief 
cashier, Mr. Surtees, had been a little behindhand that morning, 
but this was nothing unusual either. 

The chief cashier was a little remiss on the score of punctual- 
ity. The offense, though serious, Mr. Waldo forgave him; for 
they had been clerks together, and were still good friends. A.mong 
the subordinates the matter was almost a joke; except, indeed, 
with Percy Meggitt, the assistant-cashier, who sneered and won- 
dered why the firm was so easy with the old fool. But then it 
was well known at the bank that Meggitt was an ambitious junior, 
who already counted upon stepping into his senior’s shoes. 

The day’s business, as 1 have said, began as usual. The clerks 
on arrival changed their coats and went to iheir ledgers. Mr. 
Meggitt and others stood at the counter. Mr, Surtees was in 
the little glazed chamber, his own private sanctum, which was par- 
titioned off one corner of the great central room. Close by this was 
the passage into the partners’ parlor, which Mr. Waldo occupied 
in state and alone. 

At the other end of the bank-parlor was a red-haize-covered door 
leading into the strong-room of the bank. Inside the baize door 


6 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


was a second of iron, heavily bound and clamped with a great lock 
of most elaborate workmanship, a masterpiece of the most cele- 
brated safe-makers in the world. 

Half an hour after the arrival of Mr. Surtees Mr. Waldo rang 
for him. The cashier, who was really waiting for the summons, 
obeyed it with alacrity. It was account day, and there were securi- 
ties to be handed over to the various brokers and banks— work 
which the head of the firm did himself, with the assistance of ll'e 
cashier. It was not a long job, and was generally finished within 
halt an hour. 

To-day, however, the clerks and porters, whose duty it was to 
carry these securities round to their several destinations, were kept 
waiting quite an hour. No one understood the delay. It was 
known that the settling was not a heavy one. Why were Mr. 
Waldo and Mr. Surtees so long over it? 

Then the cashier came out with his face as white as a sheet, 
walked with faltering step into his glass box, and then — it was 
plainly visible through the transparent partition — buried his head 
in his hands. 

Something wrong indeed! The next move was from Mr. Waldo, 
who called in Percy Meggitt, the assistant-cashier. 

“ The day is getting on,” said the banker. “ Have these sent 
round at once, Mr. Meggitt.” 

“ Are they complete, sir? Perhaps 1 had heller run over the list 
with Mr. Surtees to make sure.” 

‘‘ It is not necessary,” replied Mr. Waldo; ” 1 have just done so 
with Mr. Surtees myself.” 

“ Very good, sir. If they’re all right—” 

‘‘\es, yes; they’re all right. Ihat will do. No, by the. way 
how' stupid ot me! Tiiere is a parcel of Portuguese, £9000 worth, 
which 1 have retained. They were for Limming and Cornecu].. 
As you pass, just beg Mr. Limming to step round here— and— and 
— send Hoskins to me.” 

Meggitt bowed and leti the parlor, his hands full of papers, and 
his manner of importance. This work ot distributing the securities 
was usually Mr. Surtees’s, brrt the cashier that day was evidently 
not equal to the occasion. 

Hoskins, who went into the parlor next, was the senior por- 
ter, an old soldier, as stanch a servant to the firm as he had been 
to the Queen. They would have trusted him with pntold gold at 
N^aldo’s; above all, he could be trusted to hold his tongue. 

“Take this telegram at once to the central office, Hoskins,” 


FAST AND LOOSE, 


7 


said his employer; “ nnd then this leiter to Scotland Yard. Not a 
word in the office, mind, about either ot these messages.” 

“Right, sir,” said Hoskins, briefly; and, with the military sa- 
lute he would ha^-e given a field-marshal, the old porter witluliew. 

The telegram was addressed to Mr. Onesimus Dandy, the senior 
partner, who lived at Wimbledon, and who seldom, if ever, came 
to town— except when called upon to advise as to the large opera- 
tions of the bank, in which his great experience and keen financial 
insight made him an invaluable authority, Mr. Dandy left the 
whole control and management to Mr. Waldo. But the senior 
partner was wanted this morning. 

“ Your presence urgently required,” so ran the message. 
“ Securities missins: from strong room. Very mysterious affair. 
Have sent for the police.” 

The letter conveyed by Hoskins to the authorities at Scotland 
Yard was, in effect, a request that one of their practiced and astute 
detectives might be placed at the disposal ot the bank. There was 
a strong suspicion that a felony had been perpetrated, and Messrs. 
Candelent, Dandy, and Waldo wished to claim the aid of the law. 

Manwhile, Mr. Surtees remained closeted in his little chamber. 
Mr. Waldo came and went from his parlor into the bank, and from 
the bank back into his parlor, but spoke to no one. The vague feel- 
ing of uneasiness gained ground. There w’as thunder in the air, 
trouble impi nding, and no one knew upon whem the blow might 
fall. The clerks wondered and whispered, but still nothing trans- 
pired. 

Curiosity was not much assuaged by the first visitor who went 
into Mr, VTaldo’s room This was Mr. Limming, of that eminent 
firm ot stockl'iokers, Limming and Cornecup, who constantly 
called. They did a good deal ot business with the bank, and came 
for orders nearly every day. 

“ 1 was on the point of looking in,” said Mr. Limming, gayly, 
“ when 1 got your message. Tilings are pretty lively; Mexicans 
on the shoot — whether up or down 1 can not say for certain; hut 
there is money to be made or lost, and plenty of it in that line 
within the next few weeks. Well, what can we do for you, Mr. 
Waldo?” 

“Not much, not much,” replied the banker, rather hurriedly. 
“ It is only a small matter ot business. You sold, 1 think, £9000 
worth of Portuguese a .short time ago lor a client of ours?” 

Mr. Limming referred to his pocket-book. 

“ Yes; quite so; and the securities are to be handed over to-day,” 


8 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


“ Exactly,” replied Mr. Waldo. ‘‘ Well, the fact is — ” he stut- 
tered and stammered rather, and had some difBculty in getting out 
what he wanted to say — ‘‘ the tact is, a very odd circumstance 
has occurred — soniething quite extraordinary and new in my ex- 
perience: these Portuguese bonds have been niislaid. ” 

“ Mislaid! They made a bulky parcel; securities are not so 
easily lost.” 

“ 1 did not say they were lost; 1 said mislaid. Why 1 sent for 
you was to ask you — ” 

‘‘ To carry over to another account? By all means,” 

” Of course at our risk,” said Mr. Waldo, 

“ Naturally,” said Mr, Limming; “ anything else?” 

Mr, Waldo turned over the papers in his desk, and selected one 
which he handed to Mr, Limming, ‘‘ Kindly make those invest- 
ments in the usual way. 1 think that will be all — no, by the way,” 
and he laid his hand on Mr. Limming’s arm just as he was leav- 
ing the room — ‘‘ we should be obliged to you if you will say 
nothing whatever about the missing Portuguese bonds. It seems 
80 careless to have mislaid them, and it might do the^bank harm 
if it got about,” 

” Mum’s the word,” said Mr. Limming, putting his finger to 
the side of his nose. 

And with that the rather self-satisfied, swaggering sort of gen- 
tleman, affecting white waistcoats and very bright ties, sauntered 
out of the office. 

If Mr. Limming’s visit did little to satisfy the curiosity of the 
clerks, the next arrival tended to increase ratter than allay the 
e.xcitement. No one knew him by sight. He sent in no card, 
and from the dieference with which Hoskins ushered him into 
Mr. Waldo’s rocm it was clear that he was a personage of some 
importance. There was something very peculiar in his look too; a 
soft, stealthy air, as of a cat about to make a spring. There was a 
feline glitter in his bluish-green eyes; and his gray mustachios, 
brushed out straight, might have belonged to a veteran mouser ac- 
customed to pounce promptly on its prey. 

It was no other than Mr. Faske, officially known as Inspector 
Faske, of the Criminal Investigation Department, Scotland Yard. 

On entering the bank-parlor Mr. Faske removed his hat, which, 
by the way, he always carried very loosely on his head, so that it 
rocked from side to side as he walked, and produced his card, 

” Oh, yes, to be sure. Mr. Faske from Scotland Yard,'/ said 


FASI AND LOOSE. 


9 


Mr. Waldo, nervously; "1 am glad they sent you, as 1 believe 
you have had particular experience in these aSairs.” 

“Might 1 presume to ask wliat aflairs?” said Mr. Paske, show 
jng his white teeth, and looking, with his bushy white eyebrows 
and straight mustathios, more than ever like a cat. 

“ Of course. 1 forget. Yon know nothing whatever of the 
circumstances of the case. 1 had better, perhaps, tell j'ou exactly 
what has occurred.” 

“ Undoubtedly, if you wish for my assistance,” replied the 
Qther. 

“ Well, it is not a long story, only 1 hardly know where to be- 
gin.” 

“ Begin in the middle,” said Faske, abruptly. “ What has hap- 
--pened?” 

“We have lost a large number of securities, Portuguese, from 
the strong-room of the bank.” 

“ Stolen?” 

“ That is for you to say. To me it is quite incomprehensible.” 
“You have the numbers, of course?” 

“ Certainly. Here is the security book. Will you examine it?” 
“ No; hut 1 will take down the numbers if you will read them 
out to me. It is most important.” 

The detective carefully noted these particulars, then went on; 

“ And you are certain they were in the strong-room?” 

“ 1 saw them there myself three days ago; they made a bulky 
parcel. They were in twenty-pound bonds, and there were four 
hundred and fifty of them. They attracted my attention when 1 
last went into the strong-room with Mr. Surtees.” 

“ Mr. Surtees?” 

“ Yes; our chief cashier. He and 1 alone have access to the 
strong-room.” 

“ Each of you has your own key?” ^ 

“ Yes, and they are always in our own possession— at least, 1 
can answer for mine,” and Mr. Waldo pointed to his watch- 
chain; "and 1 have every reason to believe that Mr. Surtees is 
equally careful of his.” 

For some little time Mr. Faske made no remark, but sat there 
nursing his leg, and apparently closely examining the knot with 
which his right shoe-string was tied. 

“Lock been tampered with?” he said suddenly, but with a 
gentle voice, as if asking the question of himself. 

“ Not the slightest signs of it, so far as 1 can see.”— 


10 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


“ Perhaps 1 had better see for myself. Can we get Ic the strcng- 
room without attracting attention?” 

“ It is there,” said Mr. Waldo, pointing to the red-baize door 
at the end of the room. 

Mr. Faske, without another word, got up, went straight to the 
baize door, opened it, struck a luciter-inatch on his boot, and 
held it close to the lock of the heavy iron door within. 

“Ah! one of Stubbs’s patents; nothing like them, they are the 
safest in the world. Never knew any one but ‘Velvet Ned' 
who wa-* a match for a patent Stubbs. But this one has not been 
tampered with, that is clear. Have you your key, sir?” 

Mr. Waldo removed his key from his watch-chain, and handed 
it to the detective, who immediately unlocked the door. 

” As I thought. It works all right; there has been no foul play 
with the lock.” Then he relocked the door, returned the key, 
and went back to his seat in the parlor. 

A fresh pause and a still closer examination of the shoe-string. 
Then, quite suddenly, as before, Mr. Faske asked: “ And this Mr. 
Surtees?” 

” One of the oldest — in fact ths oldest and most trusted of our 
employ^. He has been in the service of the bank these thirty 
years; indeed, we were clerks together. 1 can not bring myself to 
suspect him.” 

” H’m, h’m. Is he here? May 1 see him?” 

“ Of course; but perhaps it would be as well to wait until Mr. 
Dandy arrives. He is our senior partner; 1 telegraphed tor him 
the moment I missed the bonds.” 

” Quite so, quite so. We will wait for Mr. Dandy,” and with 
that Mr. Faske returned to bis all-absorbing occupation with his 
right leg and shoe. 

Half an hour more elapsed, and then Mr. Dandy arrived. 

A slim, well-made little man, with rather a stoop in the shoul- 
ders, and a shuffling walk indicative of advancing years. He was 
extremely neat and natty in his appearance, more like an old beau 
from the West End than a magnate of the financial world. 

Directly he entered the parlor Mr. Waldo rose; he had been a 
clerk when Mr. Dandy was a partner, and the old feeling of re- 
spect for his superior clung to him to the last. Mr. Faske also got 
up from his chair, and, after the partners had shaken hands, he 
\ as formally introduced. 

” Well, Waldo, what is all this? Thieves in the bank— hey? what 
—what docs it all mean?” 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


11 


Air. Dandy spoke in the feeble, chirpy voice of a very old man. 
But there was much keenness left in the dark and piercing eyes, 
one glance at which, and at the somewhat prominent nose, ought 
to have warned intelligent persons not to expect to get the better of 
Mr. Dandy in a bargain or in anything else. 

Air. Waldo told his partner the story in much the same words 
as he had used to Mr. Faske. 

Air. Dandy listened attentively, then turned abruptly to the de- 
tective, and said: “And what do you think of all this, Mr. 
Faske?’’ 

“ I never say what 1 think, sir— at least, not till 1 am sure.” 

“ And are you sure of nothing in this?” 

“ 1 am sure it is a put-up job,” said Air. Faske, decisively; 
“you know what that means? No? Well, done in the house by 
some one who knows every move. Don’t you see how cleverly it’s 
all plannedl These bonds — specially selected, payable to bearer, 
no transfer necessaiy. Sharp that, eh? Yes, sir, the culprit is 
some one behind your counter.’’ 

“Ridiculousl You don’t mean to accuse Mr. Waldo?’’ said 
Mr. Dandy, laughing; “or’’ — this said with some hesitation — 
'• or Air. Surtees?’’ 

“ Mr. Waldo would hardly steal his own property,’’ replied the 
detective with a smile; “ that goes tar to exonerate him. As to 
the other — well, the thing is suspicious, and that is the least 1 can 
say.” 

“But it is preposterous,” broke in Mr. Waldo. “1 can not 
bring myself to think ill of Air. Surtees. Besides, he may be 
able to explain— perhaps he was careless with his key; it may 
have got into wrong hands; the bank may have been broken into 
in the night, and the securities removed.” 

“Any signs of a burglary lately in the bank? Nol Any ca«h 
taken? There was cash in the strong-room, so you said, 1 think 
—nothing touched, only the bonds, which are payable to bearer! 
There was no common thief in this, you may be sure.” 

“ Well, but what does Mr. Surtees himself say?” interposed Mr. 
Dandy, quite as much disinclined to think evil of his cashier as 
Mr. Waldo; “ let’s have him in.” 

“ Yes, I should like to ask him a tew questions,” said the de- 
tective, once more nursing his leg. 

A minute cr two later Air. Surtees entered the bank-parlor. 
His face was white and haggard; his eyes restless; in spite of his 


12 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


endeavors to keep quiet liis fingers twitched nervously, and it must 
be confessed that his manner was altogether against him. 

“ Sit down, Mr. Surtees,” said Mr. Dandy, not unkindly. 
” After what has happened you must not be surprised it we ask 
you a tew questions; 1 am sure we can depend upon you to an- 
swer them in a straightforward fashion,” Then, with a move of 
his hand toward Mr. Faske, the senior partner left the detective 
lo continue the examination. 

“Of course, you must understand,” began Mr. Faske, majestic- 
ally, ” that you need not answer any question of mine unless you 
like.” 

Mr. Surtees bowed. 

“ You have the custody of the key of the strong-rocm?” 

“ Yes; jointly with Mr. Waldo, who has a duplicate key.” 

When were you there last — 1 mean previously to this morn* 
ing?” 

” The day before yesterday 1 unlocked the strong-room door 
to deposit some title-deeds and other property belonging to a cus- 
tomer of the bank.” 

VV as everything all right?” 

“ »o far as 1 could see, yes; but 1 was not in the room for 
more than five minutes, and hadn’t time to examine or look about 
me,” 

” Where do you keep your key of the strong-room lock?” 

“ On niy key-bunch.” 

” A loose key-bunch?” 

” No, it is fastened by a chain to one of my braces.” 

” Are your keys always in your own possession?” 

” Invariably.” 

“At night?” 

1 place them under my pillow with my watch.” 

” Do you think it possible that your keys, or more particularly 
the strong-room key, could have fallen into any other hands during 
the last few days or weeks?” 

” It is absolutely impossible; none of my keys— -certainly not the 
strong-room key — have been out of my possession.” 

Mr. Faske looked across the table at the partners in a meaning 
way; and both seemed to understand the glance, which was intel- 
ligible also to poor Mr. Surtees. 

” 1 know it is all the more against me, but 1 must tell the truth. 
The key has never been out of my possession. 1 feel perfectly sure 
of that.” 


PAST AND LOOSE. 


13 


There was a Icng pause, which Mr. Dandy at lenglli broke. 

“ This is exceedingly painful, and 1 hardly know what to say. 
1 am loath to accuse you, Surtees; you have served us so long and 
faithfully’.” 

“lam innocent, 1 swear before God 1 am innocent. 1 know 
nothing whatever of those bonds.” 

” \Ve are only too anxious to believe that, and you may rely 
upon our doing nothing which is hasty or unnecessarily harsh. 
It is impossible, however, to conceal the fact that you are under 
suspicion. Please God it may be removed. It is possible that 
within the next few days some fresh light may be Ihrcwn upon 
this mysterious affair. Meantime everything shall go on as usual. 
Tou shall retain your position— you see we have not lost con- 
fidence in you even now; all 1 insist upon is that you shall sur- 
render that key.” 

So spoke Mr. Dandy, with something of the old masterful man- 
ner which was once so well knowm in the bank. He received ihe 
strong-room key' from Mr. Surtees, and placed it on his own bunch 

“For the present, we two partners,” he said to Mr. Waldc, 
“ will be responsible for cur own securities and cash. That will 
do, Mr. Surtees.” And the unfortunate cashier with a fevy mut- 
tered words left the rocm. 

“ What is to be done next?” asked Mr. Waldo, rather helplessly. 

“1 will tell you,” pul in Mr. Faskc; “ that is to say, if you 
mean to intrust me with the affair. We must keep a close watch on 
this Surtees, and find out all about him, both before and since the 
loss of the bonds. Do you happen to knew his privain address?” 

“ No. 27, The Mall, Chiswick. That is where Mr. Surtees lives. 
Anything else you want to know?” 

Mr. Faske had taken out his note-book, in which he entered 
methodically the various facts connected with Mr. Surtees private 
life, viz., that he had been in the employment of the bank for 
twenty-eight years, that his age was fifty-three; that he was a 
widower and had two children, both grown up — one a daughter, 
the other a son, who was at that lime an officer in the 119th Regi- 
ment, stationed at Aldershot. 

“That will do for the present,” said Mr. Faske. “'Vou shall 
hear again from me, gentlemen, before long.” Then the detect- 
ive withdrew, leaving Ihe two p.artnors to go all over the case, a 
doien limes, point by point, from the beginning to the end. 


u 


£A.SiT AMD LOOfil. 


CHAPTER II. 

MR. SURTEES ANP IIIS SON. 

The house Mr. Surtees occupied at Chiswick was one of those 
old-tashioned places that lie within a few hundred yards of Ham- 
mersmith Bridge, facing the river, with gardens both around tho 
house and opposite it on the other side of the road, where steps led 
to the boat-house at the watei-side. Mr. Surtees was a widower. 
His wile had died when both his children — Josephine and her 
brother Robert— were quite young. The old house — it was his 
own, bought with the small fortune his bride had brought him— 
was terribly lonely to him without the bright presence of the 
woman who had cast in her lot with his; but he had stayed on in 
it bravely and hopefully, preferring to bear his present pain rather 
than lose the sweet memories it must always preserve to him. As 
time passed he was thankful that he had decided to slay at River- 
side Lodge. His love of the house grew upon him. His daughter, 
as her beauty developed with her years, resembled her mother more 
and more, to the immense comfort and joy of her father. 

It was a very quiet, retired life they led. Mr. Surtees, like a 
thousand other business men, W'ent up daily to his desk, returning 
regularly at even-tide thankfully and eagerly to enjoy the peaceful 
pleasures of his tranquil home. They kept very much tc them- 
selves. .losephine had girl-frienas among her immediate neigh- 
bors, but during the day she busied herself with her books or her 
household aflaiis, and in the evening devoted herself entirely to 
her father. Then at times there was Bob, much-loved, much- 
spoiled bi other Bob, to bear her company; now at home from 
school, then on leave from his regiment, but always, while he was 
in the house, his sister’s shadow. They could not bear to be apart, 
and not the least of the blessings for which Mr. Surtees fell thank- 
ful was the warm, deep-seated affection which bouni his two chil- 
dren to one another and to him. A father might well be proud of 
such a pair. 

Bob was a big, handsome young fellow, gay, light-hearted, and 
careless, somewhat given to extravagance and a little too easily led 
by others. He had all the happy-go-lucky recklessness customary 
in the British subaltern; w'as lull of fun and “go,” good at all 


PAST AND LOOSE. • 15 

pames, ready at a moment’s notice to dunce or fight, to join in any 
amusement, or take bis share of huid knocks. 

As for Josephine, she was a perfect type of an Englisli girl; 
fresh, healthy, straight-limbed, in the first bloom of budding 
womanhood. She carried her bead high, and looked fearlessly at 
you with her bright eyes, challenging respectful admiration for her 
beautiful face, with its clear wholesome complexion and fine, rich 
color. Her hair was dark — almost black, her eyes a deep violet. 
Although tall, she was exquisitely proportioned; her small hands, 
like her clear-cut upper lip and slight nostrils, betokened race and 
breeding, while her voice, capable of the most varied modulations, 
now soft and tender, now deep yet mellow in tone, was of the fiber 
to stir a man to bis inmost heart. 

Mr. Surtees, returning to his homo on the evening of the loss at 
the bank, downcast and dejected, could have readily obtained sweet 
sympathy from Josephine had he told her all. But how could the 
father bring himself to break it to his daughter that his employers 
thought him a thief? 

Tou are not well, dear father?” said Josephine at once, as she 
noted his clouded brow and miserable mien. 

“A little overtireil, my child — nothing more; it has been a 
heavy day at the bank. Any one been here to-daj’?” 

Only one persons— guess,” cried Josephine, with radiant eyes. 

“ 1 give it up, dear,” replied the father, wearily. ” You must 
tell me. I haven’t energy enough even to guess.” 

” Why, you dear, stupid old father; you might have guessed, 
I’m sure. Who else would it be but — Bob?” 

” Bobl” said the father, in a tone which did not indicate the 
liveliest satisfaction. *’ Bob in town — again?” 

“ He only came up to dine and sleep; and there is a party, you 
Know, at the Waldos’, which, of course, be did not care to miss.” 

” Where is he now?” asked Mr. Surtees, abruptly. 

“He went out on the river for an hour or so, but he will be 
back in plenty of time. Are you going to look for him? Shall 1 
go, too?” 

For the first time almost in her young life her father broke away 
from her and spoke less gently than was his wont. 

“ No, no— 1 must speak to him — alone and at once.” 

With that Mr. Surtees passed into the hail and out across the 
Mall to where the steps led down to the river. 

He had not long to wait for his son, who was even then bring- 
ing his boat alongside. 


16 


PAST AKD LOOSE. 


“ Why, father! would you like a turn on the water? Jump in; 
I’ll take you as far as the church.” 

” Mr. Surtees shook his head, and said, rather sternly, 

“ No, Bob, come on shore; 1 want to speak to you.” 

Bob Surtees chained up his boat, and sprung lightly up the 
steps. A fine athletic figure he looked in his white flannels; and at 
any other time the sight would have gladdened his father’s heart. 

“ Now, Bob, listen to me. This is not doing as you promised, 
or as 1 wished. How is it you are here again within three days— 
well, four days — of your last visit home?” 

Bob hung his head. 

“There was nothing doing in camp, father, and you know I 
have a season-ticket.” 

“ Why should you, a pocr man’s son, have a season-ticket at 
all?” interrupted his father, angril}*. “ Running backward and 
forward to London when you should be with your regiment is 
mere idle pleasure-seeking. It's all of a piece. Wasteful, wicked 
extravagance, Robert, and it must come to an end.” 

Bob still tried to justify himself. “There is a party at the 
Waldos’ to-night, and you know you always wished me to accept 
their invitations, father. It is the dress-rehearsal of their theat- 
ricals.” 

“In which you are to take a. part with Miss Helena Waldo, I 
presume? There must be an end of this ridiculous nonsense. 
Robert. You don’t suppose for one moment that Mr. and Mrs. 
Waldo would allow you to pay your attentions to a daughter of 
theirs?” 

“ Why not, father?” asked Bob, simply, but with a heightened 
color. “ We are gentlefolk, while they — ” 

“ It IS idle to discuss this, Rcbeit. A match between you and 
Helena Waldo is out of the question. You have not a sufficient 
income; your profession is a poor one. Besides—” 

The wretched man thought of what had happened that very day 
at the bank. Whatl his son, the son of an employ'e under a dis- 
graceful accusation, to aspire to the hand of a partner's daughter! 

“ But this is mere waste of words, Robert. What 1 wanted to 
say to you, once and for all, is, that vou must mend your ways. 
It would be better almost if you left England; exchanged— say to 
India.” . 

What would Josephine say?” 

As yet trother and sister had never been parted for long. 


FAST AND LOOSE. 17 

“I know her strong afiection tor you. As for yours, 1 am not 
so sure." 

“ Father!” 

“ 1 am sorry to be so harsh, Robert, but 1 must doubt affection 
which comes second after self. Aou little think, 1 tear, where all 
this money you have had from me, especially that large sum within 
the last tew days to pay your gambling debts, comes from. Have 
3’ou thought that it is stolen ” — he shuddered as he spoke the 
w’ord, and added — “ stolen from Josephine’s portion; that it dimin- 
ishes by so many hundreds the sum I was putting by for her on 
her marriage, or when 1 am gone?” 

” I know it, father, and bitterly do 1 repent my foolishness, my 
recklessness. How shall I prove that 1 am in earnest?” 

” By being more circumspect in the future. You have laid a 
heavy burden on me, Robert, a heavy burden, and 1 am nearly 
crushed by the weight.” 

With these words Mr. Surtees turned to re-enter the house. The 
day was waning, the red sun sinking behind the belt of trees, from 
amongst which rose the old tower of Chiswick Church. But there 
was light enough to see up and down the Mall, and as Mr. Surtees 
crossed it he recognized a figure slowly sauntering up the road. 

It was Mr. Faske, in the same attire he had worn at the bank 
that day, with his tall hat poised loosely on his head and his hands 
in his pockets. 

” They have lest no time,” said Mr. Surtees to himself, as he 
went in. ” 1 suppose 1 shall have that man always at my heels 
now.” 

To understand more clearly the reproaches Mr. Surtees addressed 
to his son, we must go back a little to a date slightly antecedent to 
the loss at the bank. 

Field-sports and theatrica!® filled up so large a portion of his 
spare time that Robeit Surtees had a wide circle of acquaintances, 
even beyond his comrades in the regiment and at Aldershot. 

Among others. Mr. Percy Meggilt, the assistant-cashier at the 
bank, was very fond of young Surtees. 

A word here as to the assistant cashier. Percy Meggitt had been 
brought into the bank by old Mr. Dandy, who, for reasons of his 
own, took a great interest in the young cleric. It was through the 
senior partner's good offices that Meggitt rose rapidly in the bank, 
and became, before he was five-and-thirty, assistant-cashier. At 
the time we make his acquaintance he already showed signs of de- 


18 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


generation. His yellowish red haii, parted in the middle, wa> very 
thin on the top of his head, and his figure had lost its symmetry. 
He was a little too fond of a good dinner and a good glass of wine, 
and was suSering thus prematurely from his self-indulgence. 

Meggitt was not popular at the baufc. Since his advancement 
he had given himself great airs. JNone of the other employ^ knew 
him at all intimately now. Vague rumors circulated at the bank, 
set in motion by Meggitt himself, of the splendor of his chambers 
in the West End, of the entertainments he gave, and to which he 
■was invited. How he could keep up such a show and lead such a 
life on Jiis modest salary was a mystery which no one seemed 
anxious to solve. It was, how'ever, supposed that he possessed 
good private means, an idea strengthened by the csiimation in 
which he was held by the heads of the firm. 

He was noted for hospitality of a florid kind, and the dinners he 
gave at his club, the -Junior Belgrave, were the admiration of the 
rest of the club. It was a club of the doubtful debatable kind, 
hanging to the skirts of Clubland, but with no very assured reputa- 
tion. Its members w’ere rather a mixed lot. They eyed each other 
suspiciously or with surprise, as though mentally inquiring, “ How 
on earth did you get in here?” Most of them, too, were cautious 
enough not to play billiards, or sit down at the card-tables, except 
with their own personal fiiends, whom they invited to the club. 

But things were done well at the Junior Belgrave. It was a 
smart, showy house, well mounted, full of gorgeous upholstery, 
and— at least upon the surface— well managed. There were plenty 
of servants, in and out of livery, who did the service well, except 
that their manners were a little too familiar; whilst the head serv- 
ants patronized the members, and probably lent them money on 
the sly. 

Mr. Meggitt was a prominent personage at the Junior Belgrave, 
and when he entertained his friends the whole establishment was 
on the alert to give him satisfaction. One night, a few weeks be- 
fore the occurrences related in the previous chapter, Mr. Meggitt 
gave a small dinner to a select party. Our triend Bob Surtees was 
one; Captain Wingspur, Mrs. Waldo’s son by her first marriage, 
was another; and the fourth was a distinguished foreigner on a 
visit to England, who had Drought introductions to Waldo’s bank. 

Captain Wingspur ■was a person of considerable importance in 
his own, and indeed in many other persons’ estimation. Heir-pre- 
sumptive to an Irish peerage, with a rich step-father, who made 
him a handsome allowance; toadied and flattered by at least half 


FAST AKD LOOSE. 


19 


thq people lie met; it was natural lie shculd have a good opinion 
of himself. 

Small people are often eaten up with conceit, and Captain Wing- 
spur was no exception to the rule. He thought himself the beau 
ideal of a light cavalry ofBcer, and no doubt his shriveled legs were 
admirably suited to look well in boots and breeches; while his 
head, disproportionately big for his inches, took a very large-sized 
helmet, and gave him a paiticularly martial air when at the head 
of his troop. His mental capacity, however, was somewhat limited; 
his mind, such as it was, concentrated on the cut of his clothes, 
and he had no great convetsational powers. 

Ml. Meggitt’s third guest was altogether a different person; he 
was introduced by the host as Marquis de Ojo Verde, a lich Cuban. 
The marquis was a remarkable-looking man in ins way, with a face 
that impressed net too pleasantly at the very first glance. Two 
tints predominated, black and red, both almost startling in their 
intensity. The black was his smooth shining hair and mustachios 
— sc black that they might have been dyed; the red, a complexion 
so high-colored as to be suggestive of rouge. His eyes, defiant 
when they chose to meet other eyes, were large, fierce, and daik; 
the mouth hard, and habitually close-shut under its heavy sable 
fringe; the jaw broad and heavy, indicating much strength of pur- 
pose. In person he was considerably above the middle height and 
powerfully built, but with a slight stoop in his shoulders, while, 
as he walked, a close observer might have noticed the very faintest 
hang or limp in the left leg. 

He was well-dressed, but with some pretension; a very open 
white waistcoat, a broad stripe down his trousers, an enormous 
solitaire stud of lubies round a black diamond, a big black tie, a 
velvet collar to his coat, and diamond buckles on his natty shoes. 
He only wanted a star and a ribbon —no doubt he had them both 
at home— to be a perfect model of a foreign diplomatist or em- 
bassador from some South American Court — altogether a thorough 
man of the world, at home everywhere, speaking many languages, 
English among them, without strange accent or hesitation. 

The dinner was excellent. Clear turtle was followed by salmon 
and white-bait; next came ‘a supreme de volatile, with trufldes and 
chaud froid of foie gras, then quail in olive leaves, and plovers' 
eggs. 

“ They do you well,” said the marquis, ‘‘ right well, at your 
club, mon cher Meggitt. A most excellent club. 1 envy you.” 

" Would you like me to put your name down, marquis?” 


20 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


“Enormously! How long does it lake to get in?” 

“ Oh, not very long,” replied Meggitt, vaguely. He did not 
like to confess that a personal interview with the secretary would 
probably settle the business out of hand. 

“ Took me nine years to get into the Flag,” said Captain "VVing- 
spur. 

“ We’re not so long-winded at the Mars and Neptune; about 
three’s enough,” remarked Surtees, pleasantly. 

“ Don’t call the Mars a club,” replied the other; “ not a military 
club. The Flag’s the only decent military club in town.” 

“ The Mars is good enough ter me,” said Bob, good-humoredly. 
“You play too high at the Flag.” 

“Ah, indeed!” The marquis seemed interested. “ What do 
you play? Baccarat?” 

“ No; whist.” 

“ A fine game,” said Meggitt, “ for those who can play. 1 can’t; 
at least only badly at best.” 

“ 1 much prefer karte,” said Surtees. “ It’s shorter; there’s more 
snap in it.” 

“ Played by only two persons, 1 believe?” said the Marquis de 
Ojo Verde, as though he had never seen the game. 

“ Don’t you know it?” asks Wingspur. “ i thought everybody 
knew dearie.” 

“ 1 shall be very happy to take a lesson from you in it,” replied 
the Cuban, without a smile; “ and 1 will teach you some of the 
American games, if you like — ‘ poker,’ ‘ euchre,’ or ‘ poor Joe,’ or 
‘skin ’em alive.’ I’ve learned them in their own homes.” 

“ You've been pretty well all over the world, marquis,” put in 
Meggitt, as though to change the conversation. 

“ It’s my fate; 1 am a cosmopolitan. 1 belong to the whole 
world. The whole world claims me; now here, now there. Cuba, 
South America, the Sandwich Islands, Japan, then Europe or the 
Cape cf Good Hope, for a change. My ancestors were travelers, 
and they left me as a legacy their wandering spirit.” 

“ And their possessions?” said Meggitt, speaking like a syco- 
phant. 

“Alas! yes; and more trouble, many of them, than they are 
worth. Castles in Spain — literally, gentlemen, real castles. 1 
know yotir English idiom, but 1 have one in Andalusia, near 
Moron; another not far from Cuenga, and a house in Madrid. 
Outgoings, all outgoings — nothing but expense to maintain.” 


Fast aitd loose. 21 

“You have piopeity in Italy, too?” went on Meggift, trying to 
bring his foreign guest out. 

” Nothing much— a large tract which includes a half-dry lake. 
No value; only expense at present. Ah! it that were only drained 
and cultivated, what wealth — what a fortune it would be worth! 
But it is like my island in the West Indies. Virgin soil lying fal- 
low, waiting only to be planted; palm-trees, canes, cacao, cotton— 
everydhing would grow.” 

” You want some of our English capital,” said Bob Surtees. 

The maiquis bowed gravely, but tnere was a fierce hawk-like 
gleam in his eyes as he said, ” It is not so easy to get some of your 
English capital. Yet 1 could pay back cent, per cent, and more, on 
every farthing advanced. But there — enough of my own affairs.” 

After dinner came a magnum of Latour, then coffee, cigars, 
liquors; and the feast was at an end. What next? The night 
was still young. No one wanted to tuin in yet. Where should 
they go? What should they do to kill the next few hours? 

It was Captain Wingspur who proposed a rubber of whist. Bob 
Surtees seconded the notion heartily. He was proud of his play, 
and was not sorry to show off before Wingspur. Our friend Bob 
wanted to prove that one of the llSth was quite as good a man as 
any light dragoon. 

So when Wingspur proposed pound points, with a fiver on the 
rub, saying, loftily, that he never played for less, Surtees for one 
promptly agreed. He could no more afford to play such points 
than he could to drive a four-in-hand and live in Grosvenor Square, 
but he was not to be beaten by Horace Wingspur in the game of 
brag. 

The Marquis de 0 jo Verde shrugged his shoulders when asked to 
play. He knew little of whist, but he would join to make up the 
table. Meggitt agreed, bat reluctantly, and presently they were 
seated in the cara-room, which, strange to say, they had to them- 
selves. When they rose from the whist-table, Surtees had lost a 
couple of hundred pounds to Captain Wingspur. 

The marquis now talked of going home. 

” How about your lesson in dearie?” asked Wingspur. 

Half a dozen games were played, and ended in the transfer of a 
few sovereigns from the marquis to the light dragoon, who then 
rose, saying it was late. 

” I’m not very strong, as you see,” replied his antagonist; “ but 
it is a pretty game, and 1 should like to play more, just a little 
more. What say you, Mr. Surtees— if Captain Wingspur must go, 


23 


PAST AKD LOOSE. 


will you take your chance of retiieving your bad luck on me?” 
And as the marquis held out the pack his face might have been 
that of an innocent sheep ofEeriug itself to be shorn. 

Some devil tempted Surtees to accept the oiler. His losses had 
hit him harder than he cared to own. Here, perhaps, was a chance 
of setting himself right. So he sat down, and for a time it was all 
on his side. He won game after game, ana soon his account rose 
to nearly a hundred and fifty pounds. 

Shall we stop now?” asked the marquis, politely, as he lei- 
surely drank a glass of iced water, a proposal which Meggitt warm- 
ly seconded. 

Bob, who had just finished his third brandy and soda, and was a 
little flushed, no doubt with his triumph, would not hear of stop- 
ping. 

“ We’ll play all night, if you like.” 

Fresh cards were cut, and the game went on. Presently some- 
how the luck changed. Surtees began to hold miserable cards; he 
played a little too boldly, not to say wildly, while the marquis 
grew more and more cool. 

” You have been teaching me to some purpose, Mr. Surtees. No 
cards, thank you; 1 mark and play the king.” 

Surtees could make no headway at all. The other was com- 
pletely in the vein; he held all the cards. His play, which had 
been always sure, became more and more skillful, till it ended — 
when Meggitt insisted at last in putting an end to the play— in the 
Cuban rising a winner of seven hundred pounds. 

‘‘ 1 will give you my 1 O U,” said poor Bob, rather ruefully, and 
ii was the redemption of this and the other gambling debt to Cap-* 
tain Wingsput that had elicited Mr. Surtees’s" bitter reproaches. 


CHAPTER 111. 

THE WALDOS. 

Ihe Waldos, the family of which Mr. Samuel Waldo, banker, 
was the nominal head, were by way of being very great people. 
They had a house in Carlton Gardens, and made a great show. 
Mrs. Waldo aspired to be a leader of fashion, in which questiona- 
ble ambition she was aided by three smart ‘‘ rather rapid ” daugh- 
ters, and the sou, by a first marriage. Captain Wingspur, to whom, 
we have been already introduced. They kept open house in Carl- 
ton Gardens during the season, gave balls, dinners, and theatrical 


PAST AND LOOSE. 


23 


entertainments. When the summer was at its height Mrs. Waldo 
had her day at the Kookery, Kew, and hei garden-parties were 
highly esteemed with a certain set. There was no smarter carriage 
iu the Park than Mrs, Waldo’s; no toilets so brilliant or so 
vaiiecl as those in which mother and daughters appeared in public 
places, at Sand own. Lords, Goodwood, or Ryde. Quiet iolk were 
continually hearing about the Waldcs. Court and otlier journals— 
often at so much per line— chronicled all their doings, their com- 
ings and goings, their guests, and the clothes they wore. 'Ihe 
Waldos turned up everywhere. Ihat steam-launch on the river, 
dashing recklessly among the outriggers, and driving the fishermen 
in their punts nearly mad? The Waldos. That big barge at Hen- 
ley Regatta, full of gorgeous beings, rainbow-hued, and noisy as 
parrots? The iiValdos. That bo.'c at the theater, ihe royal box, or 
next to it, the occupants of which kept up a constant chatter, to the 
annoyance of the audience and discomfiture ot the actors? The 
Waldos. That select party which sought to monopolize half the 
train between Calais and Cannes? The Waldos, At home or 
abroad, on shore or afloat, in coach or carriage, in their own or 
other people’s yachts, in the park, at llurlingham, Lillie Bridge, at 
the Opera, or a fancy fair in the Albert Hall ; always tjre m’rfe/ice, 
loud, pushing, oft-handed, rude, wherever people congregated, and 
it was the right place to go, there the Waldos were certain to be 
seen. 

It had cot been alwa3'^s thus, however. Time was wdien the 
Waldos were at the very foot of the social ladder. Thirtj years 
previously Mr. Waldo had been a simple clerk in the bank; Mrs. 
Waldo, a young widow, with bright, ’oold eyes, which she had 
used with considerable eflect upcn Mr. Dandy, one of the partners. 
She was the widow ot a silly youth of good family, one of the 

ingspurs, whose marriage had caused a certain scandal at the 
time. Young Wingspur had died conveniently soon, leaving his 
wife a small fortune, and a banking account in Mincing Lane. It 
was in this way that she came to know Mr. Dandy. She had played 
her cards to win him, and had failed. Then she came to think 
more tolerantly of little Waldo. 

” He’d just do for you,” Mr. Dandy had said with a mocking 
smile. ” Steady, industrious— one of our most promising young 
people. Intensely respectable, moreover, and without an idea or 
an opinion of his own. And 1 never saw a man so smitten. He’d 
just do for you, 1 repeal.” 

Why not? The man was bearable. He was not ill-favored. 


24 


PAST AKD LOOSE. 


There was nolliing in this second suitor to disgust or repel an un 
der-bred woman who was anxious to settle in life. 

There were other reasons in favor of the match. In the first 
place, she counted on the special friendsnip and protection of Mr. 
Dandy to push her husband forward in the bank. She heard the 
clerk well spcken of. Waldo was said to be clever at figures. Be 
could cast up long columns with the speed of a calculating-ma- 
chine, and, like it, was never detected in an error; why should he 
not rise from pest to post, and expand later, perhaps, into cashier? 

So she consented to make Walcto huppy, and he was in the sev- 
enth heaven of delight. She did not come to hin^empty-handed. 
The few thousands she had of her jwn seemed to him a colossal 
fortune; she had her little house, too, and quite a fine lot of dia- 
monds— some of the Wingspurs’ family jewels, she told him, but 
which, if the truth must be told, were presented to her by Mr. 
Dandy. 

They began housekeeping in rather a modest wa}', and for years 
they were never too flush of moneJ^ They had to wait many years 
before Waldo became cashier. At last came a grand stroke of luck. 
Mr. Candelent died, leaving Mr. Dandy alone. The bank was at 
once reconstituted; Mr. Dandy wanted new blood, with the solid 
help of seme one he could trust. Waldo became a partner with a 
fractional share. This gradually increased, till, after some ten 
years’ labor, Mr. Dandy withdrew himself almost entirely from 
business, and left Mr. Waldo with half profits and a clear income 
of twenty thousand a year. 

And now Mrs. Waldo began to make the money fly. She reveled 
in these riches. It was her only compensation, she tcld herself, for 
marrying Waldo, and she meant to make the most of it. Old 
Waldo degenerated into a kind of financial stoker, whose only busi- 
ness was to keep the domestic engines constantly supplied with cash. 
Otherwise he was quite a cipher in his own house— in it, but not 
of it; less at home there than the meanest of the gangs of guests by 
whom it was continually infested. 

See him as he slowly comes down-stairs the morning after the 
bonds had been stolen from the strong room of the bank. He still 
retained the habits of his youth; rose with the lark, long before 
the servants in Carlton Gardens, of whom he was rather afraid; 
had finished his lonely breakfast, and was o5 to the City an hour 
or more before any of the ladies of the family appeared. 

A portly figure, all in decorous, shiny black, save for the bull 
waistcoat and the snowy shirt-front with its frill, walking with an 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


25 


air that -was rather cousequential than dignified, but with his rosy 
face fringed with white whiskers, high shirt collars, and stiffl7 
starched light tie, looking the very essence of solid respectability — 
a typical City potentate, a man of wealth and mark, highly esteemed 
in the east, it not in the west, end of the town. 

“ A party last night?” he asked of the footman, who had made 
his tea, and was buttering his toast. The butler did not condescend 
to wait on Mr. Waldo; besides, the head servant was not yet down- 
stairs. 

“ Small and hearly, sir. To see the dress rehearsal, and after- 
ward a dance.” 

” Kept up late?” 

” Arf after three. Hope you weren’t disturbed, sir?” 

Disturbed! He had passed a sleepless night. Seldom, indeed, 
could he shut out the unceasing din of the fiddles; but this last 
night the banker was kept awake by what had occurred at the bank. 
Poor Surtees! they had been clerks together, had known each other 
ever so long, and now at the end of it all his old friend and col- 
league was accused of robbing the bank. Sleep! He had tossed, 
and tumbled, and groaned the whole night through, seeking in vain 
fo make excuses for the cashier. The more he thought over it the 
blacker and the more impossible of explanation Mr. Surtees’s con- 
duct appeared. 

His heart was heavy within him that morning; he eat little or no 
breakfast, and it was with none of his customary alacrity that he 
prepared to start for the City. 

‘‘ Anything else I can do, sir?” asked the footman. 

” Is the brougham at the door, Albert?” asked Mr. Waldo, a 
little doubtfully. 

” Well, no, sir; 1 think not. The capting, 1 believe, took it. 
He had to catch an early train.” 

” You’d be* ter get me a cab, then ” — Mr. Waldo was accustomed 
fo be disappointed about the carriages, for which he paid so large a 
sum every year— “ or stay, Albert; I’ll walk as far as Waterloo 
Place, and pick up a bus.” 

With that the City magnate took up his hat, and was about to 
seek the humble vehicle which daily conveys so many other finan- 
ciers eastward, when the butler, making his first appearance, came 
up to his master and said : 

‘‘ Mademoiselle, sir, has come from Mrs. Waldo, to say that Mrs. 
Waldo will call for you at the bank, to- day, about four,” 


26 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


“ Very good,” replied Mr. Waldo; “ say 1 shall be very pleased 
to see her.” 

The tact being that the proposed atlenticn gave him no pleasuie 
at all. He knew that such an honor preceded some estiavagant 
demand upon his purse. 

Mrs. Waldo, in her struggle upward to the highest social levels, 
had her slices ot gcod and ill fortune. The first came to her in a 
series o( accidents which made her son heir-piesumptive to the 
Wingspur peerage. It was by no means a rich title, and the Lord 
Wingspur for the time being was an improvident nobleman, who 
promptly realized the advantages which might accrtie from open- 
ing up friendly relations with Waldo’s bank. 

Her chief cross was the pushing dispositions of her own rela- 
tives, especially her sister, Mrs. Bonaslre, who after a long struggle 
had gained an excellent position on the provincial stage. She had 
married an actor who was also a success, and much to Mrs. Waldo’s 
disgust they came to London to push their fortunes together. 
Bonastre was an undemonstrative person, but beneath a calm sur- 
face ran silent depths ot cool determination. Mr. Bonastre had a 
set purpose in coming to London. This purpose was to have a 
theater of his own, and to make money. For the indispensable 
capital he counted, rijhtly or wrongly, upon Waldo’s bank. Mrs. 
Bonastre was a pushing person, with a very good opinion of herself 
— a jolly, oll-handed, and noisy woman in the prime of life and 
looks, was fully aware of this, and equally keen. 

Their chances ot success seemed small enough at first. They 
had not, in fact, been received with open arms at Carlton Gardens. 
Mrs. Waldo had hinted that she could not have theBonastres much 
at the house. 

Soon after Mr. Waldo started for the bank in the manner 1 have 
just described, Mrs. Waldo awoke from rosy dreams. After a couple 
of hours spent in personal adornment with the assistance of Mile. 
Fanchette, a tieasure of a French maid, whose almost priceless 
services she had only recently secured, she came down into her bou- 
doir— & sweet room overlooking St. James’s Park, which no one 
entered except by Mrs, Waldo’s special favor or invitation. 

Sue was seated here at a pretty marquetry writing-table, in high 
good humor; for she momentarily expected a visit from Lady 
Wingspur, when Fanchette appeared. 

'• Mrs. Bonastre, ma’am, you know, of the Royal Roscius ” — 
the relationship was known only in the family circle, and not yet 


PAST AKD LOOSE. 27 

crenly acknowledged in the house — “ she is most anxious to see 
you.” 

” Does she know 1 am at home?” 

“ Ces jeunes mees — Mis. Bouastre is with them — said madame 
was chez elU" 

With a gesture of disjileasure Mrs. Waldo said the visitor might 
be admitted. 

” My dear,” she began, in a stiff, ungenial way, “you know I 
am always delighted to see j'ou. But it you could select any 
time but the forenoon, especially after a dance, 1 should greatly 
prelei it.” 

“ Don’t rate me, Rclia, as if 1 was late for rehearsal or had 
missed my call. 1 came on business, to see the girls rehearse, you 
know. 1 should not have troubled you only 1 have something 
important, particular, to say.” 

“ Important to me?” 

“ Indirectly so; that is if you have any sisterly feeling. It is life 
and death to us.” 

“ Money, 1 suppose?” Mrs. Waldo was like ice. “ Are you in 
debt? If so, you’re much to blame. I believe your salaries are 
good.” 

“ Generous and disinterested creature, it is as you suppose; our 
salaries are good, more than sufficient for present needs. But what 
we want is to make our fortunes.’” 

“ Ah! strange wish!” 

“ Which we are certain to do by taking the Roscius. The lease 
aud management have been offered to us on most advantageous 
terms. All we want is £5000.” 

“ Dear me! no more?” 

“ And that we want Mr. Waldo to lend us from the bank.” 

“ You must be mad to ask such a thing. Do you suppose Mi. 
Waldc is made of money, that he can squander it on every silly, 
ridiculous scheme? Of course, it is out of the question.” 

“ I said you would never agree. Bengy thought differenly. But 
then he said if you refused he would raise the money fiom the 
Jews on the strength of being brother-in-law to a banker. Hotv 
would the bank like that?” 

“ 1 declare you are a most unprincipled pair.” 

■“ Y’ou see we aie actors, my dear. A century ago we were de- 
nied Christian burial. 1 dare say you would like to have us buried 
alive now. Well, au revoir, Relia, dear. Take my advice, and 


28 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


think over this; at any rate, you might mention It to your goo« 
man.” 

And Mrs. Bonastre made her exit with much satisfaction. 

Mrs. Waldo remained in no enviable state of mind. But soon 
she smoothed the frowns from her forehead, and wreathed her lips 
in sweetest smiles to receive Lady VVingspur. 

Her ladyship was a bony, angular woman, prematurely gray, 
with an eyeglass, an unmusical vcice, and a supercilious stare. 
But she was evidently anxious to he agreeable to Mrs. Waldo. She 
had come expressly, she said, to say that at last the da}”- for the 
next Diawing-Room had been fixed. Would Mrs. Waldo now make 
up her mind as to the presentation of her dear girls? 

Hext after Mrs. Waldo, her daughters reigned supreme in Carl- 
ton Gardens. They had everything pretty much their own way. 
Three loud, bouncing, roistering girls, full of life and spiiits, 
with a fair share of good looks, fond of apparel somewhat too 
gorgeous, and amusements a little risques and fast. Clara, the 
eldest, was especially proud of her strength; Augusta, the second, 
of her horsemanship and driving; Helena, the third, of her elocu- 
tion and dramatic powers. 

‘‘ It is my dearest wish that they should go to court,” said Mrs. 
Waldo, with a sigh. ” But — ” 

” There need be no difiBculty, dear Mrs. Waldo,” observed her 
ladyship, warmly. ‘‘ If you like 1 will charge myself with the 
whole aflair.” 

Heaven seemed opening its portals wide for Mrs, W’'aldo; dis- 
closing within a vista of State concerts and State tails, 

“It is really too good of you. Lady W^ingspur,” she gasped, 
nearly breathless with excitement. ” How can 1 thank you suffi- 
ciently?” 

** Not at all. Between relations, you know— for of course we 
are connected ” — it was the first time she had made the admission 
— ‘‘ there need bene talk of gratitude.” 

Then she got up to go, but said one last word. Like a lady’s 
postscript, it was the germ and essence of the whole affair. 

“ 1 believe Lord Wingspur is going in a day or two to see Mr. 
Waldo at the bank.” 

“ Mr, Waldo will be highly honored.” 

” There is some question about mortgages — on the Scotch estate. 
1 am so stupid about money matters 1 can not explain; but 1 
believe he wauls a rearrangement — an advance, 1 believe — ” 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


29 


The scales fell from Mrs. Waldo’s eyes. The piesenlation, then, 
was a purely commercial transaction after all! 

“ Perhaps you will prepare Mr. Waldo for Lord Wingspur’s 
visit, A word from you would do so much,” said Lady Wing- 
spur, blandly. 

” 1 fear you overrate my influence. Lady Wingspur. But I 
promise to do all 1 can.” , 

The compact was signed, sealed, and delivereil in these few 
words. Yet both parlies to the bargain seemed satisfied, and Lady 
Wingspur took her leave, Mrs. Waldo accompanying her. 

As they passed one of the drawing-rooms on the same floor with 
the boudoir an estraordinary uproar tell upon their ears, a wild 
sort of glee or chorus, with a loud stamping of feet, followed by 
shouts of laughter. Lady Wingspur looked at Mrs. Waldo inquir- 
ingly. 

“It’s the girls; they're rehearsing. We’re to have some theat- 
ricals, you know.” 

” Oh, how interesting— how amusing! 1 delight in theatricals. 
Do let us go in; may 1, do you think? May 1?” 

Mrs. Waldo, in reply, opened the door without ceremony, and 
the two ladies walked into the drawing-room, where five figures 
were dancing a mad breakdown, Mrs. Bonastre leading as they 
” walKed round,” Agatha, Clara, and Helena followed. Last of 
all came Bob Surtees, with his face blackened, and alt were beating 
hands and feet in time as they sung the chorus to ” Nancy Lee,” 
the popular air just then in vogue. 

Every one was too busy at first .to notice the entrance of Mrs. 
Waldo and Lady Wingspur, and for some minutes the wild per- 
formance conliniied. It was not until Lady Wingspur, having 
carefully inspected everybody through her eyeglass, said, " Surely 
it is Mrs. Bonastre? 1 thought 1 knew her face,” that the latter’s 
attention was attracted. The dance ceased suddenly. The Waldo 
girls came up, breathless, to Lady Wingspur to stammer out, 
” How do you do?” Bjb Surtees hid himself behind the door, 
and Mrs. Bonastre took in the situation at a glance. 

“ So that is your dear friend and relative. Lady Wingspur?” she 
whispered to Mrs. Waldo. ” Please introduce me.” 

‘‘ No, no,” faltered her sister; " not now. She can not wait.” 

” You mein that you are ashamed of me, of Mrs. Bonaslie. the 
actress. You deserve to be exposed, Relia, and I’ll do it now. I 
didn’t think you were so mean.” 


30 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


She was moving a little toward where Lady Wingspur was 
standing, when Mrs. Waldo stopped her. 

“Please, Rina, spare me; at least for to-day, anything rather 
than that.” 

“ Will you get Samuel to lend us the five thou’V” 

“ "yes. yes; 1 will try.” 

“ You must promise. You know you have only to ask.” 

“ Well, 1 promise. There.” 

Mr. Waldo had good reason to dread his wife’s visit in the City 
that day. After it he found himself pledged to two new opera- 
tions— a mortgage on a rotten property and an advance to bolster 
up a doubtful theatrical speculation. 


« 


CHAPTER IV. 

A GARDEN-PARTY. 

The entertainments given by the W aldos were as various as they 
were frequent. Those in the London house w'ere limited generally 
to London friends, the great people, or that best imitation of them 
with whom the ambitious Waldos loved to be associated. 

But besides tnese high-class gatherings there were others, the 
scene of which was the suburban villa at Kew; an overgrown cot- 
tage, still called the Rookery, but greatly enlarged and beautified, 
with a fine old garden running down to the river. Here on three 
or four Saturdays during the season the Waldos cleared oft their 
minor obligations; repaid the kindnesses of early years from peo- 
ple they could now patronize, and did fresh Kindnesses on their 
own account. 

A frequent guest at. Kew was Percy Meggitt. He stood well with 
Mrs. Waldo, who much appreciated his greasy, sycophantic defer- 
ence; and, strange to say, the banker’s wife was always on her best 
behavior with him— quite cordial, not to say afl:ectionate. 

One day she had found Mr. Meggitt lounging against the door- 
way of the drawing-room where they danced in the atternoens, and 
had rallied him quite playfully. 

“ What, Mr. Meggitt; dcing nothing I declare! How idle of you, 
and so many pretty girls wanting partners.” 

Meggitt made a theatrical sert of bow with his heels closed. 

“ 1 am at your orders, Mrs. Waldo; but,” he added, familiarly, 
“ i would tar rather dance with you.” 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


31 


The great lady by no means took this pleasantry amiss; but said, 
with a gratified smirk— 

** 1 never dance now, 1 am tuo old.'* 

** Ohl Mrs. Waldo; why, they take you for Captain Wingspur’* 
sister.” 

She rapped the insinuating dog on the knuckles with her fan. 
Thank you, sir; as a reward of that 1 will introduce you to one 
of the prettiest girls here— Miss Surtees; your Mr. Surtees’s 
daughter— unless you Know her already?” 

” 1 ought to, but 1 don’t,” he said, and he was led oft, nothing 
loath. 

I Josephine’s reception of Meggitt was not encouraging. He was 
not at all to her taste; she disliked his appearance at first sight, 
and his manner did not please her. 

Meggitf, vain and self-satisfied though he was, saw this, and 
I tried to impress her with a sense ot^his importance, 
i “You have heard of me, 1 dare say. Miss Surtees?” he said, 

i as he passed his hands conceitedly through his rather sparse straw- 
colored locks. 

” I can not say that I have,” replied Josephine, simply and 
coldly. 

“•1 thought, perhaps, your father or your brother might have 
mentioned my name. 1 am a colleague of your father’s, you 
know.” 

” Oh, are you in the bank?” 

“ Certainly; assistant-cashier. 1 have been very fortunate, you 
I see.” 

“Yes?” Josephine's remark implied that she knew very little 
about the bank. 

“ It only took me eleven years to get the billet. Now, your father 
was fourteen, and six more before he became head. Now, 1 mean 
to be cashier long before that.” 

“In ray father’s place! 1 sincerely hope you won’t,” said 
Josephine, heartily. “ What is to become of him?" 

" Oh, well, there must be movement— promotions and all that. 
Perhaps he’ll be a partner. Mr. Waldo’s case is a precedent, and 
Mr. Dandy is getting very old.” 

“ It’s horrible to be waiting for dead men’s shoes. That’s the 
worst of the army. Bob says.” 

“ Bob’s your brother— 1 know. Know him intimately; capiUi 
chap. Bob!” 

“It’s odd that he never mentions your namcl” 


32 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


“ Doesn’t he? Well, it is odd, seeing that I’ve been down to 
Aldershot to dine with him times out of mind; and he’s often dined 
with me; 1 wonder he hasn’t spoken of me.” 

*‘ My brother does not keep me informed of all his movements, 
cr of those of his friends.” 

” Has he never spoken of Captain Wingspur— Mrs. Waldo’s son? 
He’ll be Lord Wingspur.” 

” Very seldom.” 

“ Captain Wingspur’s in the cavalry— the dragoons. I’ve dined 
at their mess, too. Your brother's only in the infantry. 1 should 
prefer the cavalry it 1 were in the service.” 

No doubt it would suit you best,” replied Miss Surtees, witL 
a tinge of irony in her voice that was quite lost upon Mr. Meggitt. 

The acquaintance thus unpropitiously begun did not progress 
very rapidly. Yet Percy Meggitt paid Miss Surtees a great deal of 
attention whenever he got the chance. His devotion might have 
won upon a sillier gill; it merely hardened Josephine against him 
and increased her dislike. 

Just a week after the bank robbery the Waldos gave one oi Iheir 
garden-parties at Kew. 

Mr. and Miss Surtees were among the guests, for as yet no rumor 
of the charge which hung over the cashier had traveled beyond’the 
bank. 

Mr. Surtees sat, silent and unhappy, under the trees; Josephine 
beside him. equally sad, reflecting her father’s mood, without 
knowing why. 

To them came Meggitt, who had arrived late, and asked Miss 
Surtees to dance. 

She declined, rather abruptly, 

Mr. Meggitt’s face was flushed, and Josephine liked his manner 
less than ever that afternoon. 

” Ncnsensel” said her father. “ You must not. sit here moping 
with me.” 

” I’m tired, father. I’d rather not dance.” 

” Why, you have not danced at all as yet. Don’t be denied, 
Meggitt.” 

Mr, Surtees did not share his daughter’s dislike to the assistant- 
cashier. Just now, indeed, he seemed anxious to conciliate and 
keep friends with Mr. Percy Meggitt. 

“There,” sahi Meggitt, “obey your aged parent, and come 
along.” 

Josephine reluctantly took hla arm, and they went off together. 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


33 


Meggltt danced well, althcugli in rathei a florid style, and Joseph- 
ine loved waltzing. She almost forgot her dislike to her partner in 
her keen enjoyment ot the music and the movement. 

“ You are a stunner,” cried Meggitt, with a gasp for breath as 
1 they stopped. ‘‘Out and out the best mover 1 know.” 

His bold eyes expressed admiration unspoken, but quite undis- 
guised, fcr her glowing beauty, heightened as it was by the rapid 
dance. 

‘‘ Let’s go and have some fizz,” he cried, tucking her arm under 
I his cwn, and leading her ofi almost by force. 

‘*]’d rather go back to my father,” Josephine declared. ‘‘1 
want no refreshments.” 

I ‘‘ 1 do; we’ll take ’em by the way. You see,” he went on ccn* 

I fldentially, ‘‘ the fact is I’m rather ‘ on the scoop ’ to-day. We’ve 
been having such a bit of fun. There were half a dozen of us, 
j Scotch Mac, and Billy Fisher, and Joe Horrocks, and a lot more. 

: We all met as we were leaving the City, and we went into the Gai- 
ety bar. We had a magnum of the ‘ boy,’ for which wo went 
1 odd man. Then Mac began to toss Billy for sovereigns, and tbs 
game went round. Didn’t give over till halt past three; that’s 
what made me so late, and so thirsty now.” 

These coarse confessions increased Josephine’s disgust. She 
looked round impatiently, while Meggitt lingered over his cham- 
pagne, seeking in vain for some friends with whom she might es- 
cape from her partner. 

‘‘ First class liquor the governor always gives. He does us well, 
don’t he? To rights, and no mistake.” 

‘‘ Come, if you please,” said Josephine, with a less of her head 
and a stamp of the foot. 

” Can’t bear to part with you, my de— Miss Surtees, 1 mean. 
Let’s have another dance first,” 

‘‘ If you won’t take me to my lather at once I’ll leave you and 
go alone.” 

‘‘ Oh, well, it's not worth quarreling over. Come along; which 
way?” 

The grounds at the Rookery were spacious, and Meggitt, flushed 
and excited though he was, knew them well— far better than 
Josephine. The path be took to the spot where they had left Mr. 
Surtees was by nc means the most direct. It was more shady, he 
said, but he omitted to add that it was more secluded and unfre- 
quented. 

“ Are we going right?” asked Josephine soon, rather nervously. 

9 


34 


FAST AKD LOOSE. 


“ 1 can't say, 'ra sure. 1 believe we’ve lost ourselves. Any- 
how, let’s sit down a bit, and rest.” 

“ No, no. 1 won’t stay here. 1 shall leave you unless you come 
on at once.” 

" Dc sit down; please do;” and as bespoke he laid his hand upon 
her arm. ” 1 want to talk to you. I’ve such a lot to say. 1 want 
to tell you that, by Jcve, you’re out and out the prettiest girl—” 

“ Mr. Meggittl” Josephine’s eyes flashed. 

” 1 swear it— the prettiest, sweetest, most charming girl 1 know.” 

“ 1 shall listen no longer—” 

” Oh, come; you are hard-hearted. What makes you so shy?” 
She had indignantly resented his touching her; but as she moved 
away he tollowed her close. “ My sweetest, dearest pet,” he be- 
gan, and suddenly threw his arm round her waist. 

” How dare you!” cried Josephine, striving eagerly, madly, but 
for the moment unsuccesstully, to evade his grasp. 

” 1 will have one kiss, 1 swear,” he shouted almost in her ear. 

Help! lielpl Bob! Bob!” It seemed natural to her to call for 
her brother, although he was miles away. 

” There’s no one within hearing, my pet,” went on the brute, 
exultingly. “ You shall pay the penalty of your obstinacy.” 

He stooped over toward the burning, blushing face, and his 
mustachios actually brushed her cheek, when he felt a light grip 
on his collar, and in another second he measured his length on the 
ground. 

Josephine was too excited, too flushed and indignant, to realize 
all at cnce what had occurred. All she knew was that some one 
had delivered her, rescued her from insult, but rage against her 
persecutor still predominated above gratitude for such timely suc- 
cor. 

As for Meggitt, he gathered himself slowly together, and as he 
rose from his humiliating position tried to bluster and bully the 
man who stood over him. 

” What d’ye mean by striking me?” he said; ” I’ve half a mind 
to—” 

“ No, you have not,” said the other, coolly. ” You haven’t the 
pluck to face a man. Don’t square up at me. Drop it at once, 
or Til drop you." 

The new-comer spoke so sharply and looked so determined that 
Meggilt’s heart sunk within him. 

‘‘Who the deuce are you?” stammered the assistant-cashier. 

‘‘ A gentleman, which is more than you art!” 


FAST AND LOOSE, 


35 


“I’m as gncnl as you!’’ retoitccl IMeggitt. 

“ 1 don’t kiss young lailies— 1 beg your pardon.’’ De corrected 
; Limself and raised his hat to Josephine. “ 1 don’t try to kiss 
5 ’oung ladies against their will.’' 

“ Ilow can 1 thank you sutflcienlly .Josephine now foun(t cour- 
age to say, her eyes filling with tears and a blight flusli crimsoning 
her cheek as she ihought of the indignity from which he hud saved 
her. 

I “ Who are you, 1 repeat?’’ said IVIeggitt, wilh a Itesh show t-f 
assurance. “ 1 insist upon satisfaction ’' 

“ My name is Sir Richard Daunt, my address the Albany, fi'jA, 
where you or any of your friends will find me, very much at your 
seivice. Now, pray, who ate you?’’ 

“ His name is Miggitt!” cried Josephine, in the most contempt- 
uous tones. “ He is a cleik or something in the bank, under my 
father. Mr. Surtees shall hear of hie conduct.’’ 

“ I don’t care that for your father!” replied Meggitt, impudent- 
ly. “ My credit ai Waldo’s is as good, nay, better, than his. Your 
father, indeed! Why, your father is no better Ihan a — ” 

Sir Richard Daunt caught Meggitt roughly by the collar, and 
shook him as he cried — 

“Not another word! Take }'ourself oil directly. Do you hear 
what 1 say? Go— at once.” 

Meggitt muttered some unintelligible threats, and slunk aw’a}'. 

“Now, if you will accept my escort. Miss Surtees,” siiid Sir 
Richard, turning toward her, “ w'e will rejoin your friends. 1 
ought, perhaps, to introduce myself, but you have just heard my 
name.” 

“ My father is here. Let us go to him. lie will like to thank 
you in person tor your chivalry.” 

Josephine’s eyes were sparkling; her whole face lit up with the 
gratitude she felt. It was now for the first time Sir Richard Daunt 
realized what a beau-’tul girl he had befriended. 

“1 shall be charmed to be presented to your father,” he said. 
“But, Miss Surtees, ^ it 1 suggest— U is a delicate matter, 1 
know you will forgive mo, i’m suie— but why sa}" anything about 
what has occurred? Afiairs of that kind had best be buried i» 
oblivion, ” 

“But perhaps Mr. JMeggitt will tell his own version.” 

“ Mr, Meggitt will say nothing, 1 feel sure, aud if he docs--'” 

Sir Richard’s face grew black. 

“iHaj'n’t 1 Bob?” pleaded Josephine, 


3G 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


“ Bob?” the interrogation was riitber abrupt. Ilaii some fellow 
alreatly tne rigbi to be called Bob by this very cliarming giii? ’ 
Yes; my brother Bob. He is in the llOlh at Aldershot.” 

•• Oh! your brother.” Sir Richard was relieved. ” No; 1 don’t 
think I’d even tell your brother.” 

And so it was settled. Thus the acquaintance, begun under 
circumstances likely to ripen it quick'y, was turther advanced by 
tlie possession of a very delicate secret in common. 

Josephine at the end of the day felt that in spite of Meggitt’s in- 
sult she had never enjoyed a garden-party more. The fact was Sir 
Richard never left her side, and before they parted had obtained 
permission to call at Chiswick— to be introduced to Bob. 


CHAPTER V. 

SIU RICIIARD DADKT. 

Sir Richard Daukt, the rescuer of Miss Surtees from the too 
demoustiative attentions of Mr. Meggitt, w'as a young baronet of 
good estate, w'cll know'n in Loudon society. He went everywhere, 
knew everybody, and was just the sort of man that the Waldos 
liked to have constantly at the heuse. They had met him a year 
or two before in Switzerland. Within a w'eek Mrs. Waldo had 
adopted Sir Richard as one of the family, and Clara told him she 
felt as if she had known him fi r years. Sir Richard, on his return 
to England, rather avoided the IValdos; but he could not quite 
refuse all invilaiions — hence his presence at Kew on the occasion 
already recorded, when Clara Waldo saw w ith a jaundiced, jealous 
eye the attention he paid Miss Surtees. 

She would never have tried had she known Dick Daunt as well 
as did his best friends. With them he was about as wary, wide- 
aw'ake, and hard-hearted as any man in the town. By thirty he 
had gained a very wide experience ol lile, had seen as much as 
most, and perhaps more. It w'as extiaordinary how soon jicoplu 
found out the value of Richard Daunt’s advice, and what mindKrs 
Came to him fer it. He was consulted constantly, and in the most 
delicate and confidential alTaiis. His sound knowledge of law — 
fer law was really iris profession— and his logical, practical mind 
made his opinions invaluable. In this way he came to know’ a 
great deal, far more than any one who looked at his quiet, smiling 
|ace, with the steady, thoughtful eyes, would havo 


A Km') 


J^ul ^Ir Richard Was as leticent as he tvas welKinfortncd. Ho 
kept bis secrets to Inmaelf. It was keen enjoyment to tiaa bis 
analytical facollios, and be often (levbitcl himself to the untaVelini' 
of these social in 5 'Sterie£. The taste grew on him, however) and 
he was not satisfied with the conquest of problems in his own social 
world. Ere long his investigations extended to the great public 
crimes of the day. fie often Ihougnt, no doubt with an amateur’s 
presumption, that he cotild set the police right when on the wrong 
track, or give them the “ stiaightest lip ” when altogether at fault. 
By degrees they all knew him in Scotland Yard; knew him, and, 
it must be confessed, often laughed at him, too. 

But he had his friends there; 3Ir. Faske among them. That 
asfiiie detective saw his advantage in cultivating the acquaintance 
ct friends in ever}' class, and he counted it no small privilege to 
l)e allowed to call sometimes at the Albany and have a chat witlx 
Sir Richard Daunt 

Wlicu, therefore, Mr. Faslie met Sir Richard, one Sunday alter- 
uoon, as he came out of ilr. Surtees’s house on Chiswick Alall, the 
detective, allhongh he only raised his hat to the baronet, resolved 
to pay a visit to the Albaii}’ tlic very next day. 

]Mr. Faske was a little at fault. I'liat worthy police oflicer found 
bimselt foiled in bis endeavors to Ascertain anything to Mr. Surtees’s 
detriment or discredit. Down llaminersmith waj' the Suileescri en- 
joyed the liigliest reputation. 

[ There was nothing supicious, not ashadowof mystery about them; 

I no lavish expemliture, no pressing debts, no secret entanglements 
to bint at a reason for the theft ol the bonds. A couple of weeks 
had thus slipped by in prorilless inquiries, and .Mi'. Faske was still 
as lar us ever from fixing the crime upon the cashier. 

Yet that iMr. Surtees was guilty Idr. Faske had not the sinalle-st 
doubt. It was his melliod to come to rapid, sometimes they proved 
!i:isly, conclusions. He had done so in the case of llio roldreiy at 
Widdo’s hank. 'I'lie culprit was clearly Air. Surtees. How was 
this to t;e i roved? Only by facts; by evidence which would cer- 

I ta'rily he lorlhcomhig if only he could lay hold of it. Sir Rieliaid 
Daunt might be of some assi^tance to him, and to Sir Richard 
Daunt he came, 

“ Well, Faske,” .said Sir Richard, pleasantly, pointing to an 
arm cliair, ‘‘ 1 have not seen you tor an age. Been awa} ?” 

‘‘Mo. Sir Riclianl; I hax't Ijeen lied iij) Itro closely at lioine.” 

” Nothing parliciilai stirring, is there?” asked the harouet, *’ I 


FAST AJCD LOOSE. 


have not seen a case mentioned in the papers that seemed Worth}' of 
you.” 

” There is more happens than is mentioned in the papers,” said 
the detective, nursing his leg, and beginning, as usual, to examine 
his shoe-stiiug intently. 

lie sal there absorbed and preoccupied, and for so long that Sir 
Richard at last cried: 

‘‘ Why, Faske! what’s on your mind? Out with it. 1 know 
you’re bursting witli some mysterious affair.” 

Mr. Faske started, and put down his leg. 

” It’s a bank business,” he confessed, but somewhat reluctant- 
ly; ‘‘a big robbery— of bonds.” 

“ Any clew?” 

‘‘ None; although I know the thief,” said the detective, with 
conviction. 

But can’t brii:g it home to him; 1 see. Very interesting, in- 
deed.” 

” I’ve not the slightest doubt in my mind,” he said, at length, 
” but 1 am bothered about proofs.” 

” British juries have an awkward way of insisting upon proofs,” 
remarked the baronet. 

Mr. Faske looked as though he hated all juries, and would glad- 
ly have seen that palladium of British liberty abolished. 

Another pause, which the detective broke abruptly. 

” Do you often go to Chiswick, Sir Richard?” 

” Now and again. Wliy do you ask?” Sir Richard began to 
be on the defensive. 

"A charming place, retired, yet handy for the river.” 

” 1 thought you must be loud of it, Faske; I’ve seen ycu there 
frequently of late.” 

“ You have?” Mr. Faske sometimes forgot, in his keenness to 
watch others, that his ovvn movements might be observed. 

“Certainly; in the neighliorhood of Chiswick Mall. Alight 1, 
without indiscietion, inquire what takes you so often that way?” 

“ 1 go tliere to— to fish,” replied the detective, with some hesi- 
tation. 

“ Dr sketch from nature, or pick flnwers, or play the accordion. 
Wliat nonsense it is,” w’ent on Sir Richard, suddenly changing his 
tone, “ all this licaiiiig ahnul the hush! Out wdlh it, Faske; 1 wdll 
help you if I can.” 

“ You can. Sit Richard — that is, if you choose. Will you answer 

'l 


I'AST AK’b LOOSb. 


■no 

me niic qiicsilon? li es? [low long have j’oii known Mr. Surtees? 
There!” 

” Mr. Surtees! What have you to do with Mi. Surtees?” 

Mr. Faske’s ej’es were again on his .shoe string, and he did not 
immediately reph'. 

“Mr. Surtees is cashier in— a — hank.” he said, slowly, and 
raising his eyes to look keenl,y into Sir Richard’s. 

Why, man alive. Faske, can you mean—” a light was break- 
ing in upon Sir Richard Daunt. ” Oh, it is impossible; you must 
he w’rong — utterly and entirely wrong.” 

‘‘ Look here. Sir Richard, I’ll tell you all in half ado/en words,” 
sai l Mr. Faske, .speaking now quite fast, hut ^ery distinctly. 
*■ '(Viililo’s IS the hank that’s robbed, and Mr. Suilees is the Ihiet. 
Rut 1 can’t run him in.” 

” Sc you come to me, a friend of the family, to give you a help- 
ing hand? Thank 3'ou, Mr. Faske; but you’ve made a slight mis- 
take.” 

” I thought as how you might know something. Don’t get 
savage. Sir Richard; you know you’ve often helped us before.” 

1 his compliment to his powers as a detective did not pacify Sir 
Richard Daunt, who got up as thougli to .-how Mr. Paske the door. 

‘ Now. see here. Sit Richard, listen till 1 tell you all about the 
aflair. You shall .pulge tor youiself.” 

With that Mr. Faske proceeded to lay the whole case from his 
own point of view before the baronet. As Mr. l''i.ske claimed, the 
grounds tor ouspicion were ccitainly strong. 

” 1 tell you. Sir Richard, it’s as clear as noonday —a ‘put-up 
loh.’ done in the house by the cashier himself, or my name’s not 
.Tessi; li’askc; and Fm not alone in my opinion; the firm tliink the 
same, take my w< rd for that.” 

‘‘ Tiien that’s what Aleggitt meant,” said Daunt, Incautiously, 
aloud, as lie recalled the assistant-cashiei’s lirutal innuendo at 
K< w.” 

“ .Mcggilt?” impiired Air. Faske. ‘‘ 1 know him; the assistant- 
ca-hier. What did he say, and when?” 

Rut Sir Richard would not he driiwm out further, 

” 'iou’d better ask him. Fil have noihini! more to s.ay to this 
aflair; 1 positively decline to believe anything evil of Air. Surtees, 
It ’> monstrous, 'fhat man a thief I ISever! ou should see him 
aHiome in his own house; so dignilied, so well bred. Aiul iheii 
his daughter — ” 

Oh! there’s a young lady in the case; a Aliss Surte s, eh?” said 


the entitling diteotiva, ftotiily. The bn^ tiet, no doiibi, was 
btl the gill, Mr. Faske sasv that he could do tio more good iu llid 
Albduy. itc ^Viia in the tnemy’s camp, so to speak; and he got 
ilp to go. 

“ Well, Sir Iticllaid, you always was hard to persuade. Wait 
till Dc.\t bentral Criminal Court, br the tuie after, you’ll admit 
then I was not far wrori;r.” 

W'ith that Mr. Faske, poising his hat, as usual, lightly on his 
head, went his way. determined, before he was u'ucli older, to see 
whether Mr, Meggiit could throw any lisht on the affair. 


CHAPTER \1. 

COI.LECTI^G EVIDENCE. 

Mu. Waldo had laid strict injum tions on the detective that no 
inquiiies tending to incriminate Mr. Suitees should be made at the 
bank. Mr. Taske liad resenled this rcstricliou. feeling that it nar- 
rowed liis field of investigatioa in tlie very directit u it promised to 
be most fruitful. Rut he had followed his instuiclions. Alter 
satisfyinji himself that the place had not been broken into, nor the 
strong-room tampered with, he bad not relnriied to the bank. So 
far. loo. he bad refrained from cioss quesliouing any of the em- 
ylojies. 

Row be learned quite by accident that one of lliem, this Meggitf, 
was behind the scenes; lliat not only liad be luaid of the robbeiv, 
wiiicli was supposed to be stilt a profound secret, but that lie liad 
an opinien cf bis own on tlie affair, and bad liinicd at it to Sir 
Richard Daunt. There was obviously inoie iu Ibis than nut the 
eye. 

Waldo or no Waldo, <'ideis or no orders, Mr. JMeggitI must be 
got at, and made to tell all lie knew. 

One of Mr. Faske’s young men, a promising tyro of Scotland 
Vaid, will) williin foriy-ciglit lionrs bad liaeked Percy Mcggitt 
from the bank to lii.s cl ambers in tlie Adelplii, thence tr, tlie.Tun- 
irr Belgrave Chib, and. later on in tlie evening, to the Royal Ros- 
cius, where the assistant cashier was list at the slairedoor. lie 
was the intimate fiiend, it appeared, of ^Ii. Ronadio. 

Now Mr. Faske luipptned to know Reiigy Ronastre very well; 
the actor, in fact, was under ohligations to liim. And by a little 
adioil maneuvering he secured an invitation to a llieatiieal sup- 


FAST AND LOOSE, 


41 


pf'r, i^ivoii l)y (lie new nmnager of the Koyal Roscius, at which he 
hoped to nuet (he assistant-cashier. 

A( (h;i( Slipper lie go! a scat by Meggitt’s side, and soon they 
were the host fr’eiids in (he world. 

" 1 mppose you know evcr3’body hero?” saiii ."Mr. Faske, in an 
insinuating way, as lie look around the table. 

“All (hat are worth knowing,” replied Jlr. JMeggitt. ‘‘The 
ronipany is rather mixed, you understand. Can’t help it, you see, 
in nu ll aflairs as these.” 

” ^rVho is tliiit gr.ry haired old gentleman — 1 mean the man with 
the gray hair dyed black, who must be sevent}’’ at least, and tries 
to look twent^'-tive?” 

‘‘ Oh, that’s Lord Wingspur, a gteat patron of the drama; very 
old fiiend of Mrs. Ronaslre’s, 1 have heard.” 

” All? Do you know him?” 

“ Well, not exactly, but I do the captain, Mrs. Waldo’s son, 
who will be Lord Wingspur by and by. We have had many a 
merry night together. Only a few weeks ago he dined with me 
at niy club — he and young Suttees.” 

‘‘Surtees!” inteirupted the detective. ‘‘1 seem to know the 
name. Wli.d Surtees is that?” 

‘‘ You may know ti e man himself if 5'ou like, lie is sitting 
ovci theie— the tall, soldier-like chap. He is in the arm}-, in 
some fo. l regiment. 1 will introduce j'ou, if 3’ou like, after sup- 
per. Do 3 0U ever pla3' huccarat? If 3'ou do, he is your man.” 

” Is that his line" A gambler, eh?” said Faske softl3', trying, 
from long habit, to ptisli back his chair, anil examine his shoe- 
string. 

This was an important piice of uew’s. The fact Hint the son 
pla3'(d high explained the father’s need ior money at all costs. 

‘‘ 1 saw him lose seven hundred pounds at ccarte not three 
weeks ago without luiniiig a hair,” went on Meggitt, seemingly 
proud of his aciiuainiance with such ti sportsman, 
ile must he rich to risk such sums?” 

” JTasu’l a rap ot his own. 1 can’t tell how he does it, except 
Unit he comes down on the old man.” 

” A rich father, eh?” 

” Well, 1 can’t sa3’. but I should think not. An3'wny, this last 
bu‘=iness inrsl have liit him liatd, and that ] happen to know. For 
o'd Siiitees came to me,” went on ifleggiit, grenving rpiilo con- 
fideii! al, ‘*atiil said Jic’d liavo tu fttll out blotH to pay ) Is son'o 
Utdils,” 


42 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


“ Anil dul he? Do you remember the name ot the stock?” 

Faske never showed excitement, but he spoke eagerly, and hia 
heart was beating fiercely as he waited for the answer. 

” Ko, 1 don’t. The money' was paid on the nail, tl.at’s all 1 
can tell you. WTiat mi.kea you so anxious to know?” 

‘‘Anxious! I’m not anxious,” replied Faske, promptly: ‘‘only 
it 1 am to jilay baccarat with a man 1 like to be certain he can pay 
up if he loses. But the father can’t be very flush if he has to sell 
out stock every time his fou loses a lew hundreds at play'.” Then, 
after a pause, he went on: ‘‘ So he came to you to get the money?” 

” 1 (Mdu’t say that: he tolil me he’d have to part with capital, 
and askeil me to get rid ( t it for him, or to recommend him a 
broker who would dispose of bonds.” 

” Bonds, were they? In what stock — Portuguese, did yen say?” 
remarked Faske, carelessly’, looking at Meggitt out of the corner 
of his ey'e. 

‘‘ No, 1 (lid not say Portuguese.” 

‘‘ Vou never do say anything, Mr. Meggitt.” 

‘‘ How do y'ou know my name?” asKed the other with some ef- 
frontery. 

‘‘Just as i know they were Portuguese bends, and why' Mr. 
Surtees wanted to sell them cu tlie sly.” 

‘‘This is really most extraordinary, Mr. ” 

‘‘ Faske, of Scotland Yard; there's my' card. Pll tell you why’ 
he wanted to sell tliem: because he stole them from the bank in 
which you are a clerk, young man. Tlie matter has been placed iii 
my hands, so you’d better lell us all you know, or we’ll charge 
you as an accessory' before and after the fact, and run you botli in 
together.' 

Miguilt’s manner changerl instantly. ‘‘ A detective!” he gasped. 
‘‘ Then all the fat’s in the fire!” 

’• Yes, and unless you make a clean breast of it you’ll be 
scorched in the blaze. How long have you known of the loh- 
bery?” 

‘‘ I never knew of it for certain— 1 only suspected it. Ever 
since that day at the bank when Mr. Dandy was there, and you — 
you — came.” 

‘‘ 1 came!” 

‘‘ 1 think so; 1 am not quite sure. 1 have only just recognized 
you. it’s a dreadful adaii.” Meggitt seemed quite agitated. 
‘‘ Poor, dear Mr. Surtees! Such a nice, good man, Mr. Faske!” 

fgshe thought Ire (jeteettyd Just a fuipt tinge of jrony in the tone, 


PAST AXP T.OOSP. 


Hi 


‘ Look here, >Ir .Heggitt, scniiment’s a fine thing, bin it don’t 
wash with me. Yon must pul your tine feelings in your pocket 
and stick to businets, or we shall fall out. Do you mean to tell 
me what }'ou know?” 

” 1 should be sorry, very sorry, to injure Mr. Surtees; indeed, 
1 am quite incapable of il.” 

‘‘SlufT! You must be with us or against as. Which is it to 
be? Look sharp, or I’ll go across to Lord Wingspur — he’s a 
jVIiiUllesfx niagistiale; I know him, if you don’t — and get him 
to siirn a warrant tor your arrest this very night. How would 
you like to leave the stage with Faske lightly shook his coat- 
tails, and there was a rattle of steel — ‘‘the darbies on? They’re 
there wailing till they’re wanted. Come, which is it to he? ’ 

‘‘ 1 shall be very happy to tell you all 1 know, Mr. Faske,” said 
Meggdt, eager ly but very humbly. ‘‘ only il can’t be here My 
chambers are not far off — in the Adelphi. Whj' not come over 
then?” 

They were small rooms, but well furnished in a tloiid, showy 
style. Mr. Fa.'ke threw himself into one of the arm chairs and 
said — 

‘‘ Now, sir, 1 propose to ask you a tew questions. You’re in 
Waldo’s bank?” began ihe detective. 

” 1 am. 1 have been for eleven years. 1 now hold the post of 
assistant-cashier.” 

‘‘ Immediately under Mr. Surtees? Are you gt'od friends?” 

” The best. 1 like him, and 1 ihmk he likes me. He speaks 
confidentially to me, and often consults me about his private 
affairs.” 

” As w'hen he asked you to help him tc sell those bonds?” 

‘ He ordy asked me it 1 knew of a broker who could tell them 
lor him quietly. He seemed an.xious no one should know he was 
parting with these bonds.” 

” Did it occur to you why? Had you any idea that they were— 
stolen?” 

‘‘ Mr. Faske!” cried Meggitt, indignant at the imputation the 
remark conveyed. 

’* Don’t look injured; I’m not accusing you--at least, not for the 
present— of any guilty knowledge. Besid s, in no case need you 
criminate yourself. All 1 want to gel at is what you thought 
were Mr. Surtees’s reasons for wishing to keep the who'e affair 
dark.” 

“ 1 had an idea certainly. 1 iancied he did not wish the firm to 


44 


FAST AND LOOSF. 


know that he was realizin'!: his capital, and for the purpose of meet- 
in'!: his son’s gambling-debts ” 

“ Yon mentioned nothing about all this to your employers'” 

” No, Why should 1? .licsides, 1 felt bound to respect .Mr, 
Surtees’s expressed desire for secrecy.” 

” And you did not connect the cashier’s request with the loss of 
the l)onds from the strong room?” 

” 1 tell you I had not heard of the robbery.” 

” You cucssed something had gone wrong; it is your own ad- 
mission.” 

“Yes. but 1 knew nothing of the details. 1 knew none of the 
pariirulais of the theft until 1 heard them from you to night.” 

“Didn’t you?” remarked Ylr Faske, softly, as he stared at his 
sh'rc string. “ And why, then, did you suspect ]\Ir. Surtees?’' 

“ itow cculd 1 suspect him?” 

“ As a matter of fact, then, you diJ not?” 

“ No.” 

" Then what did you mc.nn when you saiti your credit — jours, a 
junior’s— was belter at Waldo’s than his— that in faci the cashier 
was under a clou 1?” 

“ V>^hen dill 1 say that?” 

“ About a iottnight ago, to Sir Richard Daunt, at liew.’' 

JMeggitt slatted, and turned rather pale. 

“ You can’t humbug me,” went on the detective sternly, nurs- 
ing his hg; “1 know most things, and 1 can dia.v my own con- 
clusions. Again, what did you mean by your remarir at Ihcsup- 
per-liible, no' an bout ago, that all the lat was in the fire?” 

iMcggill was <ilcnt. 

“Isn’t there an obvious inletprtlation to both these remarls? 
To me it’s all as clear as noonday. You know more than we 
do. Now, what is it you know? Will you tell us of your own 
accord, or must we make you?” 

" Make me!” cried Meggiti, sulkily, and evi'lently driven into 
a corner. 

“ Yes, we can force you to speak, Mr. Meggitt. Y’ou wi.->h to 
stand well with your employers, iou come next in the bank after 
Mr. Surtees—” 

“ It’s that wfiich seals my lips, Mr. Faske. It would be so 
mean to ‘ round ’ on a man vihom 1 should probably succeed.” 

" You’ll never be cashier it j'ou hang hack now, yon may lake 
your oath of that,” suid llie detective, with great decision. “ it’s 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


45 


fnr more likely llmt tlie firm v. ill lliink vo'i’ic a jial of Surlees’s, 
ami in the swim. You must make up yoiu miml a! onre wlu'thcr 
you’ll stick to Surt’es or to the bank. Look sharp ulout it, for 
I’ve no lime to lose.” 

Faske look out his watch ostentatiously. 

” I’ll give you five minutes; not a second more. So now you 
know.” 


” You’re a hard man!” cried Meggit!, with a half-groan; ‘‘ and 
you’ve got Ihe ivliip hand of me. The fact is. I o/eiheard a few 
woids that passed heiween Ihe partners tliat day you came to tlie 
hank. It was ahoiit some missing Portuguese bonds.” 

‘‘All! and you tememhciou what Mr. Siiitees liad asked you? 
pul I wo and two together and — ” 

‘‘ Pieciselv. ” 


'■ Siill you said no'.hin.g to the firm! Do you know that 3 'onr si- 
lence may lie misconsliutd? Hut come, hurry up, we‘re re t gra- 
ting lonvMd. 1 undeislaml why you siispecled Ihe cashier, lie 
asks you to help him to dispose of ceitain stock. Socn afterward 
pome of the same sort disappears from llie sirong room, tii which 
the 1 ailiicrs and he alone have access. Is there nothing mote?” 

” Kolliiiig niucli, although in your hands. Mr. Faske, it may 
lead to ii great deal mote. J ’in gi ieved— dccjily gtieved — to be the 
means of Initiging trouble on my good friend — ” 

” Seii'iment is wasted biealli, I tell you, Mr. ]Meggitt. Put your 
fine feelings in your pocket till atler I’m gone; and gel on.” 

” I’m going to sliow you som tiling, Init its nndci cominilsion, 
and 1 trust j’oii will not bring me into Hie business; 1 sliould hate 
to luivc to appciir; soineiliing.” he went on, ‘‘ whicli may help 
you forward in 3 'our iiujuii^cs.” 


^\ illl that he went into his hedioom, unlocked a small iron safe 
let int.") Hie wall, and took out a small pocket-book, trom the cen- 
ter division of wliicli be extracted several scraps of while paper. 
They liad jagged edges, and were evidently part of a letter ordocu- 
niint which bad been torn up and thrown into a waste-paper bas- 
ket or on the floor. 

‘‘ Tiiere; will those be of guy use to you?” 

Faske took the bits, turned them over one tiy one, and then 
picc* d them together on the table. After a long aud palieul ex- 
aminaiion he observed, quictl 3 ’-— 

” It’s !i broker’s contract, of course.” 

^ame of Ihb pieces were but enough lemaiued to ^ive a 


46 


FAST AKD LOOSE. 


clew to the meauiue of the whole. After repealed attempts Mr. 
Faslce was satisfied with the following collocation: — 

Lond ay, 187... 

I. Jos. Bro 

uguesc at 

brok 


Account 15 M £929 17 1 

Higgins & S 

Gold be 

“ That’s near enough. It’s the contract tor the sale of the 
stolen bonds. How did you come by it?” 

” Bv (he merest cliauce. I will tell you. A day or two after 
the lovv at the bank I went into the cashier’s box — jmu know, tlie 
glazed compartment in the corner maresl the parlor— to speak to 
Mr. Surttes. lie was stooping over liisdeslr, rending sonitthing. 
1 saw at once that my entrance irad pul him out. He seemed agi- 
tated-upset. As 1 stood there about to speak he look otl the desk 
the piece of paper at which he had been looking, and lore it up be- 
fore my eyes.” 

” Without remark!” 

‘‘ Quite. For the moment he was loo confused, as 1 thought, to 
speak. 1 went on with my business without prelemiing to notice 
anything wrong, and then 1 turned to go. At that moment Mr. 
Waldo whistled for the cashier through the tube. We left the 
glass box together, but 1 — ” 

‘‘Returned to it. ] see. Simple minded young man! Any- 
thing more?” 

” No; tliat is all, upon my word.” 

‘‘Nut much, perhaps, after all.” said the detective, thought- 
fully. ” Still, it will help, perhaps.” 

” "What do you mean to do next?” asked Meggilt. 

Faske put his finger to his nose, a gesture implying that he in- 
tended to keep his own counsel, lodged the scraps of the cculract 
into his pocket-bock, and bade Mr. Meg git I good- night. 

As he walked home he pondered over the strange facts elicited 
from the unwilling cashier. Could he identify these brokers? 
He looked in at Scotland lard and copsulted a London Directory. 

‘‘ Higgins and Stumper, Goldbeater Alley.” There they were, 
¥ure enough; tnpse W'ere the people who had .sold the Portuguese 
\)onas tor tVlr, JosepU Pfo— pro— vyhpt? BrotlrcrSj Brotlierlon, 


FAST AXD LOOSE. 


47 


tJrcnson. Most probably Brown. Brown was such a simple name 
to assume. 

Had (he culprit gone in person to (he brokers? If so, he nuLlit 
be identified ; if not — . On this hypothesis Paske fell a little un- 
happy. But yet it might be shown surely that the bonds were 
sold for Surtees, wliether he called himself Surtees or lirowu, 
otherwise how was it (hat Mr. Surtees was in possession of the con- 
tract, a document which, unless his own, he had no right to de- 
stroy? 

“ 1 e.xpect he himself went to do the deal,” Faske concluded at 
htst. ” A man so anxious to keej) a job dark would not have in- 
trusted it to a third person. He had already (old one loo many, and 
when Meggitt refused to help him he would probaly think it safest 
to act for himself.” 

He went straight into the City, first thing on Monday morniner, 
and called upon a friendl)’ stock-broker, a member of li>e eminent 
firm of Limming and Cornecup, for which he had once done some 
very delicate work. 

“ You’ie an early biid,” airily remarke:! Mr. In’mming, to 
•wiiom we have already been intioiluced. ” ^Yell, what brings you 
here? 1 hope I’m not your worm.” 

“ No, sir, but xmu can help me to him, 1 think. Do you know 
anything of Higgins and Stumper?” 

” Goldbeater Alley? Fes, to be sure, what have they done?” 

” They’ve been dealing in stolen bonds.” 

‘‘ A\hat stock?” 

” Portuguese.” 

” Not Waldo’s? i’es? Is that so? Well, 1 surprised !” 

‘‘ You knew of the robbery, then?” 

” Oddly enough the bor.ds belonged tc us. On (lie day cf the 
account Waldo sent for me, and asked me to hold over. Of 
course 1 did so. Then, at the end cf the fortnight, comes a letter, 
private and confidential, from Mr, Waldo, inclosing a check for 
the amount, and begging us to buy bonds to replace those lost, 
as nothing had been heard of them.” 

“ They were stolen by the cashier of the bank.” 

“Old Surtees! That highly respectable man! Come, Faske, 
that’s going a little too far.” 

” Stolen,” said Faske, emphatically: ” and sold by him to Hig- 
gins and Stumper. I’ve got the contract in my pccket.” 

” For those very bonds? Are the rtuinbcrs eutered on the cop- 

tract? TttHt’s very seldom done.” 


48 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


“ Well Faske was looking at bis shoe-string, and seemed a lit- 
tle disconcerted — “ no; the numbers are not given, but I’m moral- 
ly certain they’re the same bonds. All 1 want is legal proof.” 

“ flow will you manage that?” 

“ By tracing the bonds sold.” 

” Thai won’t be so easy. Higgins and Stumper may have kept 
the numbers; and, again, they may not. The only chance for you 
is that they did no other transaction in Portuguese about that time. 
They’re not in a very large way of business, you know.” 

“How shall 1 find out? Can you help me, Mr. Limming? 1 
don’t want to go to them yet. It might show my liand.” 

” I’ll send a confidential cleik round if you like; they’re under 
obligations to us, and if they know or remember anything they'll 
ccrt.iinly tell.” 

‘‘ If they’re ou the square, that is?” 

” You may depend upon it they're all right in such an aftair as 
this. That’s not your difficulty. Y'cu’ll be pounded. I’m afraid, 
when you tiy to connect Mr. Surtees with the missing bonds.” 

‘‘ 1 shall be able to show that ho sold Higgins and Stumper cer- 
tain bonds,” begau the detective. 

” In person? Is the contract in his name?” 

‘‘ AVell, no; it’s not.” Again Mr. Faske’s face fell, as he made 
this aitmission. ‘‘But they, Higgins and Stumper, will surely be 
able to identify liim. ” 

‘‘ Yes; if he went himself.” 

‘‘ You may be sure he did that. 1 have strong reasons for think- 
ing so.” 

‘‘ Well, grant it; grant that Mr. Surtees sold certain Portuguese 
bonds to Higgins and Stumper. "Unless you can confront him 
with the numbers, and show' that the bends sold were identical 
with those missing, where is j'our case? AVhat’s to prevent him 
declaring that the bonds w'ere his own property?” 

‘‘ He would have to prove that.” 

"No doubt; but, even if he dirt not, 1 question w’hether any 
court w’ould be satisfied as to his guilt. They might call it highly 
suspicious, but hardly sufficient to convict,” • 

‘‘ But taken in connection with his tearing up the contract—” 

‘‘ Oh! lie tore up the contract, did he?” 

‘‘ lie was seen, delected in the very act.” 

” Ceitainly that looks very fishy'. So docs the whole affair ; I 
won’t deny it. However, we shall see— come back in hulf an Uour 


i-’AS'r AKl) T-OOSli 40 

for Ihc answer lioni Gi klheatcr Alley. Everjtliinjf depeuds upon 
what lliggius and Slumper say,” 


CHAPTER VII. 

TWO PA IKS OF LOVEUS, 

The Waldos were very keen, this season, about giving an ama- 
teur Ibealrical performance. And the idea once started bad 
promptly taken a pr.-ictical shape with every chance of becoming 
an assured success. The girls were all toud ot acting: tbe3' were 
promised the assistance of the Barashes Bob Surtees, sweet as 
ever on Helena Waldo, was really excellent for an amateur; Sir 
Richard Daunt had consented to play, not to oblige Clara as she 
tliought, but because pretty Josephine Surtees was included in the 
cast. 

They had been arranged, these theatricals, long Irefore ]ilr. 
Paske’s visit to the Albany, and Sir Richard was already very 
intimate with the Surtees when he heanl of the secret charge 
against the cashier. 

He went to Chiswick nearly every day ot the week tor the re- 
hearsals, which took place generally at the Rooker}', Kew, and 
atter them he often accompanieil Josephine anil iier brother home. 
He was often pressed to stay and dine, an invitation lie gladi}' ac- 
cepled— at first because he leall}" liked the soeiet}' of these pleas- 
ant, unaffected peoirle, and then because he could not resist the 
potent spell that Josephine was casting over him. Latterly he had 
an additional reason for spmding all the time ho could at Cliis- 
wick. He had thus an opportiinily of observing l\lr. Surtees, and 
could follow up the mental inquiry whether the cashier w'as an 
innocent or a guilty man. 

They tr'aveled generally by water drifting leisure!}’ down the 
river. Boh in tlie bows. Daunt pulling stroke, and Josephine at the 
helm. 

Sonretimes, howev’er, tw'o parlies were formed, and they went 
up stream for a spell instead ot down. On ihrse oerasiens tliey 
left tire pair-oar at Kew, and Sir Richard, taking a [lair ot sciibs, 
rowed Josephine alone, whilst Bob Surleis in am-tlu-r boat eseoried 
Helena Waldo. Tbai sportive young lady enjoyed nothing better 
Ilian to steal out nf tbe house after lire rebeuisa), and follow the 
Surtees patty down to the river-side. 


FAKt AXl) tOOvSli. 


SA 

No more clcliglitful tete d tetes can well be limigincd. ll was ir) 
one ot Ihese ileligblfiil expeditious, wliicli encourage liie iuler- 
chaiige ot confidences, that Sir Richard l)egan to question Joseph- 
ine about Mr. Surtees. Ik had adroitl}' utilized an opportunity 
which slie had given him. 

“1 am very unhappy at times about my lather,” she had said; 

I do not think he is well.” 

‘‘ Why do you say that?’ asked Sir Richard. 

‘‘ He seems to be out ot spirits and depressed, quite unlike him- 
self.” 

” Have you noticed this very long?” 

“ Five or six weeks or more.” 

This period coincided pretty closely with the date given by 
Faske of tlie discovery ot the robbery. It was terribly significant. 

” Has he geneially enjoyed good health?” went on Sir Richard. 

” The very best till latterly. 1 can’t make it out; he must have 
something on his mind.” 

” Diesn’t he take you into his confidence?” and Sir Richard, as 
he said this, telt that a man could have no happier lot than to share 
his inmost thoughts with such a sweet woman as this. 

*■ There is nothing probably to tell me,” she replied. 

‘‘ But have you any sus()icicu of anytliing wrong? Has nothing 
happened to vex or disturb him; has he any particular worries in 
business or about his private affairs upon his mind?” Sir Richard 
looked keenly at the beautiful face before him, and saw that a 
faint flush suffused it as be spoke these words. ‘‘ Pardon me,” he 
hastened to say, ” 1 have no right, I know, to put .such questions. 
No riah; but that of a friend who takes a deep interest in anything 
that gives you concern.” 

Josephine was silent for a time, and sat watching her hand as 
she listlessly let it hang over the side and drag through the flowing 
current. 

” Sir Richard,” she said, looking up, ‘‘you like Rob, don’t you?” 

” Immensely!” replied Daunt. 

What was the meaning of this sudden question? Did it imply 
that the brother was connected witti Mr. Surtees’s trouble?” 

” And he likes you?” went rm Josephine. 

” 1 think so. yes; indeed 1 hope so.” 

‘‘ Of course he d(>cs!” sa'd Josephine, emphatically. ” Ho 
thinks there is no one like you, Sir Richard— 1 liave heard him say 
so more than once. 1 do wish you would use your influence with 
him.” 


FAR'r AXD LOOSE. M 

" My innuence! Surely, Miss Surtees, 3'ou overestimate my 
power.” 

” Nc, no, indeed. Sir Richard; 1 am quite certain that lie would 
attend to anything you said — would listen quietly to your advice, 
i do wish you would give him a little.” 

” With all my heart. 13ut on what subject?” 

” Sir Richard,” said Josspliine, tolding her hands solemnly be- 
fore her, and speaking with great earnestness, ” Bob is the dearest, 
kindest, sweetest old fellow in llie world; but he has his faults.” 

” Like all of us.” 

“ One terrible fault in particular— he is horribly extravagant. Not 
willfully wasteful, you understand; but he has no idea, 1 tliink, of 
the value of money. It positively runs away from him; and now, 
you know, he is in an expensive regiment, it is liere close by at 
A.hlersliot, and he can’t help coming to town,” 

“ 1 understand,” said Sir Richard, who was resting on his oars, 
us he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb to the other boat. 

Josephine nodded. 

‘‘ Exactly, lie and Ilelenii Waldo are devoted to each other, not 
that 1 think anything can come of it. But all this running about, 
you Know, has led poor Bob to spend a great deal more money than 
he ought, and 1 know it vexes my father.” 

” But how long has this been going on?” 

” For the last two or three years at least.” 

‘‘ Well, but that would not explain this most recent increase of 
depression which you say you have noticed in 3'our father. Is it 
possible, do you think, that your brother has given any special 
cause for anno3'ance very lately?” 

1 can’t say— at least, not for certain; but 1 fancy, from my 
father’s manner, which has been much more severe with Bob, fha^ 
he had to pay a large sum tor him not long ago.” 

” That would account lor the change in Mr. Surtees, no doubt, 
lie is probably afraid that he may have to do the same again,” 

” That is why 1 want you to speak to Bob, Sir Richard,” said 
Josephine. ” He is so easily led.” 

” Or misled.” 

Just so; and 1 should be deeply grateful to you if you would 
help to lead him in the right toad.” 

‘‘My dear Miss Surtees,” said Sir Ricliard, with great etuplia- 
{.is, ‘ you may trust me to do all tliat lies in my power. Indeed, 
you may count upon me now' and alvva3's. Nothing will give me 
greater jileasure than to be of service to you. 1 can assure you 1 


5^ 


Past and loosb. 


want to be your friend. More,” be went on, with a deeper tneail- 
iii”: in his voice; ‘‘ 1 only wish 1 might claim to be much mortv 
AV ill you not give me the right to help you— to share your 
troubles?” 

Josephine’s reply was inaudible, but her heightened color, and 
the silence which came over her tor tlie rest of the voyage home, 
satisfied Sir Kichard that he liad not spoken in vain. 

Meanwhile in the boat ahead the following conversation had been 
in proyress: 

” ’What’s the matter. Bob?” Helena cried gayly, as she had 
taken her seat at the stern; ” you seem very dull.’' 

Bob shook his head, as if oppressed with unnumbered woes. 

” I’ve something on my mind, something awful,” he said gloom- 

fy- 

‘‘Don’t Icok like that, Bob; you frighten me,'’ cried the gay 
madcap, acro.ss whose bright, butterfly-like existence no shadow 
liad fallen as yet, ‘‘ Well, don’t tell me, that’s all. It wdll keep 
for another time.” 

‘‘It won’t keep, Helena. It must come out now. 1 fancy you 
care tor me, Helena — ” 

‘‘ Fancy? Oh, Bobl” 

‘‘ You wouldn’t it you knew me as 1 am- if y. u knew what a 
w’ortliless, unprincipled, beggarly brute 1 am. But you shall 
know, new, this very instant, and v/tien you’ve heard all, if you 
ouh' tell me, I'll lie a weiglit to my heels and throw rnysel! into 
the water, here on this very spot. Then there’ll he an end ct that 
contemptible enr, Robert Surtees.” 

‘‘ But, Bob, you’d be. drowned!” 

‘‘ Drowned! It’s too good for me. 1 deserve to be hanged.” 

‘‘ by, what have 3'eu been doing?” Helena asked, half tearful, 
yet doubting whetber she sbauUl cry or be cross. ‘‘ Oh, Bob, 1 do 
believe you’ve been flirting— making love to some one else.” 

■ ‘‘ It’s w'orse than that,” said Bob, shaking his head sadly. 

- ‘‘ Far worse.” 

’ " Bob! impossible.” 

‘‘ 1 have been stealing.” 

Helena, in lier surprise, gave a genuine shriek of rlismav, 

‘‘ No, no; not what you think,” has'ily interposed Boh Surtees. 
‘‘ I'm not a common thief, a burglar, a low pickpocket. I’m far 
wewse. I’m a mean-spirited beast, lliat takes and spends and 
vvastes money which docs not belong to him.” 

” Isn’t that what they call, you know—” 


FAST AXD LOOSE. 


53 


" 1 mean which bcloD<;s properl}- to some one else.’' 

“ I can’l say 1 see much difference. I’m nol very wise, perhaps,” 
went on Helena. 

‘‘01 course, 1 got this money Irom my father. He gave it me, 
- you know.” 

‘‘ Ami (lit! /ic.? -surely he didn’t. Wiis it his*/ 1 irean, had he 
any more right than you to— wdl, to take it?” 

‘‘ It was his own, of course; my father is as honest us the day. 
Hut it ought l(* have been k( pt for my sister. And now 1 have 
had it— .spent it— swallowed it all up.” 

Then with bitter .«clf -reproach young Robert Surtees made full 
confession. He told the giil ot his choice everything — his wild 
career of extravagance, the trouble and annoyatice he had caused 
h 8 lather, the misery he might bring on his sister. 

” It is territrle. Rob. But don’t be cast down,” said light-hearted 
-Helena, ‘‘ we have plenty ot money; you tell all this to papa, he’ll 
soort make it all rishl.” 

But it is to be feared Bob Surtees did nol find as much consola- 
(ron in this liberal promise. 


CHAPTER VUl. 

THE MtSSING BONDS. 

” Faske,” said Mr. Limrning, when the detective returned, 
” yoit are in luck. They remember all about those bonds, and the 
man who brought them for sale.” 

Have they got their numbers?” 

‘‘ \Vcll, no; but they did no other business in Portuguese that 
week, and their books show that these were passed on at once to 
Bcnoliels’, the great jobbers.” 

“Ah!” sard Faske, listening intently. 

” Sliall 1 send to Bcnoliels’ to see if they have the numbers?” 

” 1 think,” said Faske, who had been cogitating within himself, 
” 1 will go to Messrs. Betroliel luybelf; they know me. 1 once 
r in in a friend of theirs tor them. But tell me, Mr. Lemming, be- 
te.re I go. 'ion say Higgitts and Stumper remember the man who 
broirght them the bonds. Who do they say it wris?” 

Mr. Brown— Mr. Joseph Brown.” 

” But that's on the contract. There is no great news in that.’' 

“No; but they describe his appearance, and it coincides exactly 
with that of old Mr. Surteca,” 


54 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


“ He went openly, then, and wilhoul disguise? What an old 
ass!” 

*• Apparently so; and all you will have to do is to lake Hildey 
glumper to Waldo’s, and see whether he can identify the cashier,’’ 

” Right you are,” remarked Fuske, with tl.e air ot a man who 
doesn’t want to he taught his business. ” But there is no huny 
tor that. 1 don’t expect Surtees will run away, (-r he would have 
gone before this. The first thing is to get i-n the track of the 
bonds, and so I’ll be ott to Benoliels’— Baitholomew Court, 1 think. 
By the way, did Stumper say what was the dale (d the sale?” 

” les,” said Mr. Limmiup, referring to a slip of paper, “the 
Ihirteentli of May was the day on which they parted with the 
bonds. There, now, ymi know all about it.” 

Ten minutes later Mr. Faske entered the palatial premises of the 
Brothers Beuoliel, two Jew stock jobbers of colossal wealth, who 
did a gigantic business with all manner of people from princes to • 
peddlers, all over the world. Mr. Reuben was out. So said the 
managing clerk, a smooth-faced little Jew, very young as it seemed 
tor Iris place, but who had learned to deal with money long before 
he was breeched. Mr. Reuben w’as out, and Air. Jehorarn was in 
South America arranging a little matter of ten millions for a new- 
ly const it irted republic. 

” Anything 1 can do?” asked the clerk. 

” Well, yes, Air. Davies, it 1 can have a private word with ymu.” 

They went into a little inner roem lighted by a skylight, and 
having alt the airpearance of an exaggerated iron safe. There the 
detective told his business. 

'* It’s a simple matter enough,” said Mr. Davies, when he had 
taken notes of names and dates, “Just wart one morrrent, while 
1 refer to the books.” 

Then he left Mr. Faske, outwardly imperturbable, hut secretly 
censumt'd with the keenest anxiety, 

” Here you are,” said the clerk, soon reappearing, and Mr. 
Faske’s heart gave a bound of joy. ” On the 13th of Alay last there 
was a transaction with Higgins and Stumper. AVe bought fifty 
£20 bonds Portuguese, at 52|^, delivered same day for cash.” 

” Well, well; go on!” cried Mr. Faske, breathless w'ilh excite- 
ment; ” and the numbers, have you any record of them?” 

“To be sure we have. They were consecutive, filly of them, 
from 22,945 to 22.994.” 

” Copped, by Jipgo!” sUouted Faske, springing tq Uis feet, and 

•*> 


FAST A^'D LOOSE. 55 

slapping his hand on his thigh. But, the detective soon mastered 
his excUeu)ent and went on with liis business. 

“ Aou could sweai, 1 suppose, to tlie purchase of these bonds 
from Biggins and Stumper on that particular day?” 

‘‘ Certainly. The}- are people we do not often deal with, and 1 
can see no other transaction wiih that firm for at least three weeks 
before, and not even then it, Portuguese.” 

IJow came you to go to them, may 1 aek?’ 

We didn’i. They canit to us. They liad paid cash for the 
bonds, and w unted to realize their value at once. We look them 
because it happened just then that we had a large order lo execute 
for a client of curs. ” 

” Then you have nd got the bonds still” 

‘‘ Is it likely, Mr Faske? Jobbers don't alw’ays buy stock to 
keep, or where would our profits be?” 

” But you know what becair.e of them, 1 snpjiose?” asked Mr. 
Faske, anxiously, as though the clew was beginning lo evade him 
again. 

‘‘ ^ IS, heie i.-! the entry, ’ Twenty five thousand Portuguese sold 
to J. Guggenheimer.’ The bonds you are after were amongst 
them. ” 

Then 1 had better go to Guggenheimer lo see what he did with 
them?” 

*' That will be your best plan. 1 will give y( u a line if you like 
— unle.ss you know him; }'ou don’t, eh? — lo explain your visit.” 

Faske thanked the clerk, took the letter, and presently found 
himself closeted in the back parlor of a piiwnbiokcr s shop in 
llouudsditcii. There was a suspicious look alioul the place wliich 
did not impress the detecMve very favorably. lie was not admitted 
without some parley, and, although he had told the clerk at Be- 
noUel’s tJiat he did nut know Mr. Gugeenheimer, it was very evi- 
dent that that gentleman knew him. When he reached the inner 
penetralia of the premises it was plain that they liad been recently 
swept and garnished in his honor, and old Guggenheimer, who had 
put on his best coat to receive him, criugeil and bowed low. 

“An old ‘ fence,’ 1 expect,” said Faske to himself. “They 
know me, and they are not on the square.” 

“ What can 1 do for you, Mishter Faske? You come from — ” 
and the old gentleman held Mr. Davies’s letter in his hand, evi- 
dently expecting his visitor lo say that he came from BenoruTs, 
but Faske replied abruptly that lie came from Scotland Yard, aud 
jl was cviUeiit fiifit jY.B Guggeuheiiner did ppl like lliQ naipe, 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


60 

“ 1 ’nave (lone nothin^’ \vron<', ’blielp me. Why can'l your police 
leave us (piiet people alone?” 

‘‘ \vlio Said you had? Although I’ll het yon have been up to 
some plant, because you are so gallows civil.” Fask(; had assumed 
Ihe bullying tone so chi»racteiis(ic of the Loudon policeman when 
dealing with suspected persons. 

” Bid you’re sate enough this journey, it you will only tell me 
wind 1 w'anl to know. Aon bought about the middle of last 
montl. ” — Faske osteutaiiously took out his pocket hook, temsulteel 
it leisurel 3 ', and slowlj’^ went on — “bought twenty five thousand 
Portuguese bonds from Messrs. Benoliel?” 

“ Isb that all? Why couldn’t j'ou say so at first? "What do you 
come here and startle quiet folk tor? That was a straight job, all 
open and on the square.” 

“ \\ bat did you do with the bonds?” 

‘‘ Do with them? Passed them on to their owner, to be sure.” 

‘‘ And 3 ’oii didn’t buy them for yourself?” 

‘‘ What me pay a matter of £12,000 to £13,000 for foreign 
shtock. Why, where could 1 get tlie moniy?” 

‘‘ You are not worth «s many pence, I suppose,” dryly observed 
Fuske. ‘‘ Trade must be ratlier dull, then, or peibaps some of 
flio.se late robberies did not come in your way.” 

“ j\lr. Faske,” said Guegenheimer, rising from bis cludi’, and 
speaking with digiiiiy; ‘‘ there is nothing against me and never 
was. Sucli cliarges as tliese ainont to defamation, and I won’t 
have you talk to me so— liere in uiy own place. Is there anything 
more you want to know?” 

‘‘ Come, don’t get angry, 1 was only joking. You say you 
passed the bonds on to their owner. May 1 ask Ids UiimeV” 

‘‘ Tlic person I bought ’em for — Uoineirus Van Zandt, of Am- 
st< rdam. ” 

‘‘Amsterdam?” cried Mr. Faske, springing up from his chair. 
“ Tlicse cursed horrds, shall 1 ever get bold of them? What is Mr. 
Van Zandt’s addre.ss?” 

” Muiderstraat, No. 97; a most respectable man and enormously 
rich.” 

‘‘ 1 will just step over to Amsterdam,” said Mr. Faske to him- 
self, ‘‘ and try to get a sight of Mr. Van Zandt or tlic bonds.” 

Tliat same night, after telegraphing to tiie police at Amsterctam, 
be went down to Harwich, crossed to Holland, and by noon next 
day had disembarked from the Rotterdam Irain in the Rhine rail- 
way station at Amsterdam. 


®ASf AKr> toosi>;. 


He was jtsst a little confused and out cf his element, but he sur- 
Tcndei«'d iiiinself to the first tout, a ragged, disrepulable-lookim: 
Jew, who agreed to escort him to the Muidersiraat, to the risiilence 
ot Mynheer Van Zandt. 

No. 97 was only a small shop front, that of a rlealer iii curiosi- 
ties, Who was either in a very small way of business or did not care 
to make much show. 

" Mynheer Cornelie!” cried the guide, introducing tlic visitor to 
a wizened old man in u black veivet cap, wlio miglit have stepped 
straight out of a picture by Ifoibt.in or (lerard Houw. “English 
gentleman.’’ 

Mynheer Van Zundt made Faske a low bow, then tuined suddenly 
on the guide, and in a tew fierce words ordticd-him to leave the 
shop, 

“ Don’t want him or any like him here,’’ went on the old man 
to Faske in very fair English; “ I deal straight— first hand,’’ 

‘ Mr. Guggchlieimei sent me,’’ began Faske, cautiously. 

“ vriiat have you gotV Diamonds? precious stones? I’ll give 
you t lie best price; no questions asked. Quick, let me see!’’ 

1 he old dealer’s cagi rniss convinced the detective tliat the shop in 
the Muiders<raat was in connection with that in Ilonndsditch, and 
that i\Ir. Van Zandt was quite ready to do business in stolen juop- 
erty if it vvns only made worth his while. 

“I've nothing to sell,’’ said Faske, bhiiilly. “1 only want to 
ask you a question about some propi riy.’’ 

“ WhoBe piopirly? I have no property here except what’s my 
own. Whose proper t\', I say?’’ The old dealer’s nianm r was no 
longer encouraging. 

“ You bought a lot ( f Portuguese stock the other day?’’ 

“ Well, what if 1 did? 1 paid for them. Mayn’t 1 buy what I 
please?” 

“ Some of them weic stolen.” 

“ Stolen t" shrieked lire old Jew. “ Arid you w'aiit mo to give 
them up? Ey the blessed Pentateuch, young tnati, you’ve conic* 
loHre wrong shop.” 

“ 1 want to look at them, for a moment only, to verify the iium 
hers; nothing more.’' 

“ Yah. 1 know you. You’re a police officer. 1 could swear 
to yotr a mile < fl. Go along! 1 shall show no bontis. 1 have 
none.” 

” Guggenheimer will swear he sent Ihem to yoir,” 

Faske, hotly. 


went ou 


f'ARl’ AKD tOoSl^. 




“ What do 1 care? 1 needn’t criminate myself. What it 1 didn’t 
keep them? Anylmw 1 boiisht them. They’re mine, houeslly 
mine. 1 won’t part with them, or show them, ci liave anything 
mere to say to you. Go away.’' 

The old man was gradually working himself into a fury. 

“ 1 shall go to the police ot this city and claim their help.” 

“ You won’t gel it, then. They know mo lar too well; I am a 
decent burgher; since 1 was born 1 have lived liere, and they will 
all be on my side, the councilors, and the burgomaster, and the 
police. Go away, go away, go away!” and jVlynheer Van Zaudt, 
fairly shrieking witli rage, drove Air. Faske out ot his sliop. 

With a heavy heart the detective went to the Staat House, and 
asked for help trom tlie law. But he could make out no case. 
AVliat it the bonds in Yan Zandl’s possession had been stclen in 
Kngland? Could he show tliat the Alj'ulieer had stolen them? No? 
Who had? All Faske could say was that he suspected some one 
in England, but Van Zandt '.vas not implicated in the least. 

The officials of Amsterdam shrugged their shoulders, and Mr, 
Faske went back to London a disappointed man. lie had tracked 
his bonds; had run them to earth; and yet they nuist remain buried 
quite beyond his reach. He could irot e ven subpoena their holders 
to produce them in an English court. 

He seemed further off the denovement than ever, but tenacious 
as a limpet he stuck still to bis quarry. Wbalevei might come of 
the case, whether Air. ISurtees was run in or not. Air, Faske was re- 
solved to know who had sold the bonds to Higgins and hUumper, 
even if he ran the r sk ot failure in trying to identify the cashier. 

Accordingly he waited on the partners at the bank, to put tlie 
whole case before them. Ihey agreed — Mr. Dandy directly. Air, 
AValdo with more reluctance — to allow Faske, accompanied by Air. 
Hildebrand Stumper, to take post outside the bank, just as tlie em- 
ployes entered it. From a secure but unseen point ot inspection 
every one was seen by them. 

•‘There he goes!” said Hildy Stumper; ‘‘that’s Alt, Brown; 
that old gentleman with the curly while whiskers and the iron- 
gray hair,” 

‘‘Air. Surtees, of course,” said Air. Faske, ‘‘1 ‘never had a 
shadow’ of doubt of it. It was he who sold the bonds. To think 
that one is so near the end, and yi t miss a conviction! It’s heait- 
rending. I sha’n’t end here, 1 swear! Aly professional reputation 
is at slake, and 1 must run him in. 1 wonder whellier that .Meg- 
giti can help me any more?” 


FAST AND LOOSE, 


59 


As the (liowniii;? man calclies at the straw. Mi Faske huntcil np 
the assistant-cashier. 

I •* Tlianks to the information 1 ^'ot from you, 1 have traced the 
I bonds,” he said, in an oil-hand way. 

I ” All of them?” 

Not quite. J’ut enough to convict Mr. Surtees and to spare.” 

I ‘‘ Wliere aie the rest?” 

I ‘‘Tlial’s what 1 want to know. Nolliing more to tell us, have 
you. ehV” 

‘‘1? 'Not a syllable. How can 1, unless you let me know ex- 
act ly wiiat you’ve doueF’ 

Mr. Faske felt that tint her secrecy' would be misplaced, and ho 
explained minutely tc Meggitt all that had happened since they had 
last' met. 

‘‘ 1 should apply' for a search-wairant now',” suggested the as- 
sistant-cashier. ‘‘ You have enough evidence against Mr, Surtees. 
When y'ou get the warrant, arrest him and ransack his oiSce desk 
at the same time.” 

” Shall we find anytliing there?” 

” That’s more than I can tell you; but y'Ou might, and it’s surely 
worth living.” 

” You’re right, Ylr. Meggitt. By' .love. I'll do itl As I’ve said 
before, you'd have been a credit to tiic force.” 


' CHAPTER IX. 

MRS. WALDO’S MAID, 

Mrs. Waldo was heartily' sick of her amateur theatricals long 
before the night of the jurformance. They turned the Rookery 
upside clown, just when she wanted to live in it; they developed 
too close an intimacy net ween her (laughters and Mr. and Mr.s. 
Bouastre; and worse than all, through them Bob Surtees and his 
sister had gained far too familiar a fooling in the house. SI e had 
nevei liked any of the Surtees family'. Old Mr. Surtees, as a enn- 
lemporary of her husband’s, reminded her of the days when the 
I partner was still only a clerk, and wlien Waldo and she were at the 
bottom, not the top, of the social ladder. She had still stronger 
reasons for personally disliking both brother and sister. Mrs. 
W’aldo was an ambitious womau, and naturally eager that her 
^uiighlera nliou)d urairy well. It seemed us if Clufu hacl reajly Iqrt] 


GO 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


a cliance at one lime of securing Sir TJicliard Daunt. Dut it was 
still more certain that she had been inteitered with, if not quite 
cut out, by Josephine Surtees. Clara, wild with jealousy and de- 
spair, brouglit )>ack to her mother many malicious, highly colored 
stories from Kew of the bold, barefaced t\'ay Josephine and Sir 
■Richard went on; and Mrs. \Taldo grew very WTOtti at the telling, 

“ That girl ought never to have been asked to play. Can’t you 
get lid of her?” inquired Mr.s. M'aldo, indignanth'. 

‘‘ If w’e did, Mr. Surtees w'ould not play either, and we can not 
do without him,” replied Clara; atiding, maliciously, ” at least so 
Helena says.” 

” Ileleual” cried Mrs. Waldo, waxing furious. Is it possible 
that there is anything between him and that foolish girl?” 

” 1 will knew',” went on Mrs. Waldo, wdien Clara shook her 
bead and remained demurely silent — ” I will know at once. If Ihsre 
is anything it must be. pul an end to before it has gone too far.” 

Then she resolved to transfer her residence to the Rookery, not- 
withstanding its discomforts. 

'fire day on which Mrs. Waldo decided to go down to Kew was 
that fixed for the dress rehearsal. The piece was the burlesque 
Aladdin. The whole .strength of the company was present, and 
the fun promised to he fast and furious. The curtain had gene up, 
and the play had begun, wlieu Bob Surtees — he was to play the 
Widow' Tvvankay— came out of his dressing-roorrr in the wing, 
and. quite by accident of course, rrret Aladdin— Helena Waldo- 
on her way down stairs. 

They sur veyed each other w’ith astonrsliment and delighted laugh- 
ter. liob was gigantic in petticoats, and had artfully contrived to 
give himself the appearance of great height. Helena, on the con- 
trary, looked a merry, ntisehievous little boy. 

“My child! my child!” cried Rob, opening his arms; and, be- 
fore Helena well knew wbat be would be at, he had given her tw'o 
sonorous kisses, ouc on eacli cheek. 

At that moment, a figure came out of Mrs. "Waldo’s bedroom, 
wliich lay ou this side, overlooking the garden, and was close to 
the spot where Rob and Helena had met. 

“ We are observed!’' cried Helen, disengaging herself quickly. 
” Oh, Bob! how could you do such a thing? She caught ns nicely." 

” Who w.as it?” ' ■ 

” Firncheite, the ‘ muiir’s ’ French maid,” 

is she doing down Ucre»” 


ill 

)?’a&cbe!lG 


‘‘ i tniiH tiiliik. 1 Buiiposn Ibc * mum ’ is eotnihg. 

I generally precctles ber/' 

“ t)o you tliiiik she saA-?’^ 

*’ It %he didn’t she heard, tiiui i (ioh’l trust her a bit. She’s sure 
to tell.” 

” Pooh! I’ll give her a tip to hold t er tongue.” 

Mile. Fiinchette Lad tnade hersclt indisptDsable to lier inistressi 
Mrs. Waldo called her, and Ihouglit her, a pcrtect treiisure. The 
clever, ueat handed Preucliwoman was a thoiough adept at her bust’ 
ness — well-trained and skilllul in eveiy line. 

The rest of the family were a little in awe of Fanchette. They 
all quailed bcfoie Fi.nchette's fierce eyes and glitteiiug white teeth. 
There was a hardness about ber mouth, with its faint hue of soft 
black down, and a si t look in her colorless face, which warned 
tho.se who did not know her to be on tbeir guard. Vet she was 
not ill favored, and, true Fiencliwoman, knew now to make the 
best of such attractions a.s she possessed. Although scnipnloiisly 
simple in ber attire, which was invariably black, there was a touch 
of coquetry iu its very simplicity. Tiu; plain dress fitted her neat, 
slight figure with absolute perfection. Its stiaiglu skirts were cut 
short and showed her small feet, always as admirably shod as tliey 
deserved. There w'as a certain tkcoiative charm in tiie snow-white 
collars and cuffs, and in the sma'I, smart cap which lay lightly 
against the twisted coils of her coal-black hair. 

'riie llioughl that this rtdouhlahle person had surprised them in 
their hilling and cooing rankled iu Helena’s mind, and she told 
I’ol) directly (he rehearsal was over that they must at all costs seal 
Fancliette’s tongue. 

"It she told the ‘ mum oli, dear! it would he dreadful! 1 
I'.elieve the Iheatricals would be slopped, and she’d turn you out 
of the house.” 

‘‘Oh, leave it tome,” said Boh, with assurance. ” Let's go and 
find Fanclielte.” 

Helena led the W’ay, and Hie (w’o went upstairs just as they weie; 
he in the garb of the >Vidow, Helena a.s the hoy Aladdin. On Hie 
landing she panseil to listen at bet niolhcr’s door, aud then looked iu. 

‘‘ FaticheHe’s iu theie,” she wliispered, ‘‘alone, I think; come 
along.” 

‘‘ Fanchette, we w’antad to ask you,” pleaded Helena, ‘‘ to he so 
good as (c forget that — ” 

” 'Iliat little allaii on the staircase,” went on Boh, with a jioitent- 
ous wink, which was iiresistihly comic on his painted fi.ee; at tne 


PAST AXD LOOSE. 



same time he managed to slip halt a sovereign into the lady's maid's 
hand. 

She received the coin, and, with an unmoved face, said: 

“ Mcnsieui is a galant homme, and 1 should le sorry to gire 
mademoiselle pain.” 

” You will promise to hold your tongue then? 1 knew you 
would — ” and Helena was on the point of giving the Fiench maid 
a kiss when a voice at the door called out abrupily: ” Fanchettel 
^'anchettel” 

*‘ liens!" cried the maid; “it is madame. Hun, run. 3lon ■■ 
Dieu, if she should find you here. Run.” • 

Helena, without another word, caught Bob’s hand and rmhed to ; 
an inner door which communicated with Mr. Waldo’s dicssing- 
looin. They had barely entered this before Mrs. Wald(> was in j 
her own room. ‘ 

” Who was that?” she asked quickly of her maid, ” Surely 1 
caught sight of a skirt. Have any of my daughters been here?” 

Mile. Fauchette appeared much confused, but she sbcok her bead ' 
vigorously. 

” Go on, ma’mzelle; tell me directl 3 \ who \^s if? But there— 1 
can see for myself.” 

But the dressing-room was empty, and Mrs. vvalcto came back 
to the maid. • 

” 1 rill know. Quick!” 

'Fanchettc was wise enough to jdeld to her mistress in small] 
things, and she was ready now with an answer. 

” 1 have but just entered myself, when 1 .^aw some one leave i 
your room in a hurry. I think !t was — ” ^ 

” Yes, yes. Who?” ] 

■* Miss Surtees.” jj 

What piompted the woman thus to put the sister in hot brother’s | 
place? Did she feel bound to screen Bob now she had taken his. 7 
bribe? If so, wdij’ at his sister's expense? i 

" I never heard of such efiionlery. Miss Surtees enter my bed-| 
room! It's really a most surprising piece of impertinence.” | 

Mrs. Waldo fretted ami fumed iibout the room lor the next hour. ' 
She could not leave the subject. The matter must be sifted to thoj 
l)ottom. Mr. Waldo must exercise his authority over the cashier. ^ 
The Surteeses must be iorbidtten the house. | 

When she conveyed in r wishes to her htjsband that niglit miJ 
seemed strangely reliudaid to take any action. It was unnece.ssary,^ 
be thought; the thing would settle itself. Perhaps Fauchelle had] 


I 


fASt AifD LOOSE. 

tnado some mistake. It nuist have been olg of ihe oilier servanis. 
What c.mid brin^ .Miss Surtees to lliul part ol the house? 

“That’s more tlian i cnn tell at jircsent. But 1 am (loterminect 
to find out, Mr. Waldo, with or wiiliout your help. It is my 'ip~ 
liet that tlicse Surteeses are a disreputable lot.” 

Mr. VValdo put up his hand in deprecation cf tliis sweeping 
remark. Yet wliat could he say? Only that artenioon he had 
yielded on the point of llie search-warrant, and Mr. Suitees’s desk 
and drawers a! the office, if necessary his house at Chiswick, were 
to be fully examined whenever the police felt so disposed. 


CHAPTER X. 

RUN IN I 

The burlesque was an immense success; every one was talking 
about it; every one wanted to go to the liext performance at Kew. 
It was with supreme satisfaction that Mrs. Waldo surveyed her 
guests at the second and third performances. At last a crowd of 
“swells,” ot princes, potentates, and powers, were gathered to- 
gether under her roof. 

No one in this august company look much notice of Mrs. Waldo. 
On arrival, tliey bowed to the first lady who might be supiiosed to 
be the mistress ot the house, and often were quite wrong. Then 
they passed into llieir seats in the lliealrr and conducted themselves 
after the manner of the best .society at all public performances. In 
other words, they carried on their talk, laughed loudly, and marie 
men}', without considering that their voices were often louder than 
those of the actors, all of whom they criticised audibly in the most 
candid fashion. 

“ AVhe’s that beautiful girl?” some one asked. And all con- 
•ulled their satin play-hills .as .Tosepliine made her entrance. 

“ ‘ The Geuine of Ihe iiV«y--Miss Surtees.’ ” 

“ Surtees! Surteesi” said a late arrival. “ 'riial’s qucerl” 

“ What do you mean?’ asked his nearest neighbor. 

“ tVho are tlicse Waldos? City people, aren’t they?” 

“Certainly; thev’ve got a till ot some kind in the East. Rich 
as Rollischilds, 1 believe.” 

“ 1 thought so. But this name of Surtees— it’s au extraordinary 
coincidence, 'riiat’s why 1 asked.” 

The gossip was pressed to explain. 


(\i Ml". AN)) tOos)^ 

" Vdit'il find it 111 ftll the dVclilng papeM. 1 got obtj us) t catn^ 
itown. Look here.” 

Tliefe, iti the second edition ot thf. ” Globe,*' displaced in largd 
type, was the anhounbement of the robbery at Waldo’s bank, and 
the arrest of a bank fcashler. 

“ Sin lees. j'Oii sCe— Robert Snitees is the name of the thief. 
These must be his belougings.” 

” They’re his children— tlial’s all.” 

“ Poor things!” 

In order to e.xpluin the paragraph in the ” Globe,” it is necessary 
to describe what had cccurred that morning at the bank. 

Soon after eleven a m. Mr, Dandy, the senior partner, had come 
in. lie was presently followed by Mr. Faske, Rhose appearance 
was now pretiy well known in the eslablishimnt. Meggitt winked, 
and Mr. Surtees, who was in his own little glass room, glanced up 
uervouslj' at the detective as he passed through. 

]\lr. Waldo, who was waiting in the bank pailor, shook hands 
with Mr. Dandy, and invited the police ollleer to sit down. 

“Thank yc, sir,” replied the detective, briefly. ” Perliaps we 
had helter gel to business. 'Will yon send tor your caslrier?” 

” You are determined, then, to proceed to e.xtretniliesV” asked 
Mr. Waldo, looking very unhappy. 

Mr. Faske turned to the senior partner as though appealing for 
support. 

” Really, Waldo, we have nc alternative 1 lliink,” said Mr, 
Dandy, in a dty, hard voice. “ Tire facts which Mr. Faske has 
biought to liglil, taken in connection with the other ciicuinstaiices, 
afloiat a piesumplion, a very strong piesumption — ” 

*' That ^Ir, Surtees did the trick,” iaieirupled the detective; 
” I’m as certain of it as that I’m standing here. Rut it he’s tc 
be ■ run in ’ we mustn’t waste time, lie’s had more than enough 
alieady to ‘ sling the swag.’ ” 

” loll?” irKpiiied Mr. Waldo, innocenllv. 

“To eoneeal any damaging papers, that’s wl.at 1 mean. Shall 
we gel on?” 

■’ .Mr. Dandy, in reply, tang the bell. 

‘‘Mr, Surtees,'’ he began, speaking very .slowly, when the 
cashier came in, ” it will be in your memory that some weeks airo 
a large parcel of bonds— Poriuguese bond-— were abs|i;.c— aliein 
— lost fiein llie strong room of the bai k.” 

” \es; imfuitunalely, 1 reuiember it imly to.i well,” stainim red 
Ml. Sui'Ues. 


FAST AN' I) LOOSE. 


Co 


Yo 1 rcnuMiiber, loo, iluit at llial time you, with 3Ir. Waldc, 
had llic custody of the keys ot the stiong room?” 

!Mr. Surtees bowed. 

‘‘ Befoie you go jiuy fiutlicr,” again interrupted ]Mr, Faske, ” it 
is licrlil that Mr. Surtees sliould he told he need not answti any 
questions unless he likes. Whatever he says now will be taken 
down, and niaj' be used auainst him by and by.” 

Air. Surtees turned very pale as he realized the meaning of Hus 
tonuula. 

“ Is it possible, gentlemen, that you still suspect me?” he began, 

*' 1 am atraid we have very good grounds,” replied Air. Dandy, 
gravely. 

Faske put up his hand as though to check any indiscretion, and 
said, abruptly, 

‘‘1 have a search-warrant against you. Air. Surtees. AVill you 
give tne your keys? 1 mean the keys of your desk and drawers 
here.” And, as the casliier seemed to hesitate, he went on — ‘‘ If 
you Jo not 1 shall break open the locks. The warrant authorizes 
us. you understand.” 

Air. Surtees, without a word of protest, surrendered his keys. 

‘‘The search must be made in j'our presence and that of com- 
petent persons. Feriiaps you tsvo gentlemen will assisff” Air. 
Faske bowed to the partners, who led the way to the cashier’s 
icom. 

Air. Surtees worked at a liigh desk of the conventional pattern. 
On each side ot tire seat were drawers, some locked, some open, 
many ot tliem crammed with papiTS, old letters, and other litter*, 
for tire cashier was not ver 3 ’ rnolhodical in his habits, and this rub- 
bish was the accumulation ot years. 

The detective hurrted high and low, firmed over every bundle, 
read reli.giously, and examined every scrap; but after an hour’s 
work he was compelled to contess that so tar he had drawn 
blank. 

‘‘ We shall have to try the house at Chiswick,” he said to him- 
self. ‘‘ 1 was wrong to suppose tliat tire man would kee]) anything 
important Jiere. But have 1 looked at everything 1 wonder?” 
And wiilt that Air. Faske cast his eyes slowly over every corner of 
the room. 

•‘ That tin box. Air. Surtees— a deed-box, 1 think— what does 
that contain, eli?” 

‘‘ Baw -papers, mostly, and documeuts of a private paturo,” said 
Afr, Surtees. 


60 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


“ A-lml which is the key, pray?” Ami Mr. Faske opened (lie 
box, from wdiich he took out a dozen or more ol (hose unmistak- 
able bundles engrossed by the law stationer and tied up with led 
tape. 

” Mostly law’-papers, as you say. But (hert ate securities also, 

1 observe?” 

•’My own private property.” 

“ Your own, eh? So you held Portuguese of your own, Mr. 
Surtees? Strange coinciilencel” 

And as the detective spoke he handled with admirable self-pos- 
session a parcel of bonds of the same character as those which had 
been missed. 

” Yes; those are my own. 1 bought them years ago to hold as 
an investment, as 1 can prove.” 

Mr. Faske made no reply, but with a short nod to the two part- 
ners walked back to the bank parlor, carrying the parcel of bonds 
in his hand. Joy was in his face as he sat dewn, crossed his right 
leg over his left, and for just one moment-took counsel with his 
shoe strings, while the partners, who had followed him, waited for 
him to speak. 

” AVell?” asked Mr. Dandy at last. 

“The chain of evidence is complete. These bonds are part of 
those stolen. See— the numbers correspond. There are one hun- 
dred of them — 22,995 to 23,094.” 

“Surely. Waldo, after this,” said Mr. Dandy, “you can havo 
so doubt about Surtees? Beyond all question the mise.’able man 
is guilty.” 

” "What shall you do now?” asked Mr. Waldo, nervously. 

“ Take him to the Mansion House and apply for his committal; 
the case is perfectly clear. He will te sent to the House of Deten- 
lion at Clerkenw’ell, and bail refused. If you have nothing more 
to say, gentlemen, 1 think I’ll go?” 

Mr. Faske nodded airily to the partners, w-^nt out, and whispered 
a few words to the cashier. Mr. Surtees turned very wliite, but, 
without reply, rose and followed the detective ofllcer out of the 
tank. They both entered a cab at the door, and it was driven 
away. 

By three that afternoon Mr. Surtees was lodged in Clcrkenw'ell 
Prison, on remand. 

Tliis was the dire intelligence which had now to be broken w 
his childicii. It was not strange (hat old Waldo, whe came dpw^ 
99 purpose to Ketv, shrunk fiom the tiis^ 


PAST AND LOOSE. 


67 


Ijor some time he looked round in vain for the Iwo young peo- 
ple, both for the moment were on the stage. 

Pijsently Josephine carce off, having said her say. Mr. YN’^aldo 
went up to her at once. 

“ My dear," he began, in such a kindly, compassionate tone that 
Josephine, who had never exchanged a dozen words with the great 
man, felt sure that his condesct nsion covered some evil news. 
‘‘ Your father, my dear,” went on Mr. Waldo, ” has sent me to 
tell you — ” 

” My father! It’s something dreadful, I’m sure,” said Josephine. 
” Is he dead? Tell me. Do not keep me in suspense.” 

At that moment a passer-by blurted out what Mr. Waldo was 
trying to conceal. 

” It’s all in the evening papers, 1 tell you, and a bad case, too. 
The man’s name is Surtees. He stole the bonds from the bank, 
and they’ve locked him up.” 

For a moment Josephine stared aghast at the speaker, then she 
hurried across to where Bob was now standing laughing and talk- 
ing with Helena Waldo. 

” Come home. Bob,” she whispered, hoarsely. ” This is no 
place for us — come home, come home." 

” What does it all mean?” he asked in utter bewilderment, as 
they hurried away from the house. 

Josephine could hardly bring herself to repeat the infamous 
charge. “ They say that father has robbed the bank.” 

“Oh, Josephine, there must be some terrible mistake.” 

“ I can’t understand it. But it’s all in the papers, they said — 
the name and all,” Josephine sobbed out. 

It was not until they reached Chiswick that they got within the 
radius cf the evening news, and ascertained exactly what had oc- 
curred. Mr. Surtees was already actually in jail. 

As the}’- entered the empty, desolate house Josephine, now real- 
izing her father’s absence for the first time, and the cause of it, 
fairly broke down. 

She was still crying as though her he&rt would break when a 
loud ring was heard at the front door. 

“ Who can it be?” asked Bob. 

“ Some message, perhaps, from father,” said Josephine, hastily, 
drying her eyes. 

But then a servant opened the door and introduced — 

“Sir Kichard Daunt.” 

“1 came on the moment I heard,” said the young baronet. 


C8 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


speaking in a quick, excited voice. “ 1 tbouglit I might be of 
some use, perhaps.” 

” Are you aware what has occurred; exactly?” asked Josephine, 
anxiously. 

‘‘ In a vague way. That is why 1 came. I'ou see 1 know all 
about these things— about ” police and prisons ” he would have 
said, but the words seemed harsh—” about the law; and if you 
will let me 1 will gladly help.” 

” We must go to him at once,” said Josephine, wiih decision. 

” He will want to see us.” 

” Where is Clerkenwell Prison?” inquired Bob, innocently. 

” 1 know,” said Sir Richard. “ We can get there by the Metro- 
politan Railway. It’s a little late tor visiting, but perhaps the 
governor will admit us under the circumstances.” 

” lou will come with us?” said Josephine, as she looked at Sir 
Richard, gratefully. 

” To be sure 1 will. First of all let Bob get a few things to- 
gether in a dressing bag; your tathei will need them— and,” he 
whispered, as Bob left the room, “you'd better wash your face.” 
It still wore its theatrical rouge. 

“ There will be many things to see to,” he went on, ” and I have 
no doubt 1 can help. It will be necessary to secure the best legal 
advice. Have you thought ot that? ’ 

”i hardly understand- 1 feel quite dazed,” replied Josephine, 
blankly. ”1 only know tliat j'our great kindness overcomes me, 
and that I can not express all the gratitude 1 feel.” 

” It is ot times of great trial such as this that you should be able 
to count upon your friends,” said the young man, gravely, and 
with great self-restraint. 

” 1 think— 1 feel sure that you are a tnre friend. Sir Richard,.” 
and Josephine frankly put her hand into his, as it to prove the 
sincerity of her words. 

“Friendl” he cried, as he drew the sweet girl toward him. 
“ Friendship is but a cold word to express all that 1 feel toward 
you. Believe me, Miss Surtees, Josephine—” 

” Don’t, please don’t,” she pleaded, with crimson cheeks. ” Not 
now. 1 must not listen to you.” 

“ But 1 may speak again— by and by, when this black cloud has 
disappeared? l.'ou will not send me away then?” 

The answer was almost inaudible, but Richard Daunt interpreted 
it in the way he wished. 

” My darling!” he whispered, as he stooped down and kissed 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


69 


her solemnly on the lips, *' 1 can wait. Meanwhile we will share 
ihis terrible trouble together. My love shall support and' strengthen 
3 ’ou; yours will arm and encourage me to spare no effort in j'our 
behalf.” 

“ Hush! Please let me go; here is Bob,” and Josephine, hastily 
disengaging hcrselt, ran from the room. 

Half an hour later brother, sister, and stanch friend reached the 
gloomy gates of the prison known as the Douse of Detention, and 
after some difficulty obtained permission to enter the jail. 

They were escorted to a cell, where the warder unlocked a trap 
in the door, to which there was an inner grating of perforated 
zinc, and through this they descried the unfortunate cashier. 

A very painful scene followed. Mr. Burtees was greatly agitated. 
‘‘ I am innocent as the child unborn,” he protested, speaking in 
a broken voice, as though overcome by the shame of his position. 

“Dearest father, do-you think we doubt it?” cried Josephine; 
" we know you have been grievously wronged.” 

“ It shall be rectified, rest assured,” added Sir Richard. 

“ Appearances may be against me, but they can, they must, be 
explained away,” went on Mr. Surtees. 

“ It is some infamous plot against your good name,” said Bob, 
hotly. “ Only let me find out the villains — ” 

“ Trust to us,” said Sir Richard, as tha visit drew to a close, 

" everything possible shall be done. Tour son and daughter al- 
lowed me to accompany them to-night because they know that 1 
share their deep distress. "Sou have my most sincere sympathy, 
believe me, in this great trial.” 

“ Tou are loo good. Sir Richard. I can never thank you suffi- 
ciently. You will prove a stanch champion, 1 feel sure,” said the 
poor prisoner. 

Bob and Josephine echoed these expressions of gratitude; then, 
with many assurances of affection, and of faith in his innocence, 
they left their father in his cell. 

In the days following they had many more interviews with Mr. 
Surtees. Sir Richard, too, came Ircquently, alone, or with the 
solicitor to whom, after much thought, he had inirusted the case. 

This was Mr. Levi Liljearth, a gentleman ot Hebrew extraction, 
who had made a great name and a substantial fortune in Old 
Bailey practice. He was a thorn in the side of every police magis- 
trate, and had more than once, liv his astute devices, upset the 
most elaborate Treasury prosecutions. 


70 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


But whenever Mr. Liljearth was employed it was understood 
that the case, taken on its merits, was weak. 


CHAPTER XI. 

THE cashier’s TRIAL. 

Only three weeks elapsed between the lull committal of Mr. 
Surtees tor trial and his arraignment at the Central Criminal Couil. 

The case attracted much attention. Little doubt existed really ! 
in the public mind as to Mr. Surtees's guilt. The prisoner and his 
friends must have themselves thought the case a black one, or they 
would not have intrusted it to Mr. Levi Liljearth. 

Listeners, who heardthe solicitor -general un folding the case grad- i 

ually and in a masterly manner, felt that there was little hope for S 

the prisoner. | 

As the reader is already in possession of all the facts elicited by 
Faske, it is needless to describe the cashier’s trial at any length. 

Mr. Waldo, who was very nervous and discomposed, swore to 
the disappearance of the bonds. He was certain that they were in 
the strong-room. He had seen them there, and had certainly not 
touched them himself. 1 he clerks sometimes stayed at the bank 
after hours, late in the day even, but only he and Mr. Surtees had 
access to the strong-rcom. They entered it together on the morn- j 
ing of the 11th of May, when the loss was discovered. * 

“ By whom?” asked the solicitor-general. " 

” By me. 1 called the prisoner’s attention tc the tact. He f 
seemed surprised.’ • 

” Did ho say anything?” 

“Only that it was very sirange, 1 think, or something to that 
eflect.” i 

Then Mr. Waldo went on to explain the steps taken when the } 
loss was fully established, and this was the substance of his evi- v' 
dence. •; 

Mr. Sergeant Standaloft, Q.C., retained for the defense, was a 
pillar ot strength to Mr. Levi Liljearth.. He was a small man with 
a big head, and a tongue which, when he was silent, was too big i 
seemingly for his mouth. It hung outside, and just before ht be- £ 
gan to speak he used it freely to lubricate his lips. He had a great f 
square nose and very prominent teeth, all of which, with the aft're- tn 
said tongue, gave him the look, as he rose to cross-examine, of » ^ 

fierce dog about to quarrel over a bone. ^ 


FAST AND LOOSE. 71 

He hart long noted Mr. Waldo’s neivousness, and hoped to turn 

it to his own clienl's account. But lie began most blandly: 

“ How long have you known the prisoner?” 

** Thirty years. We were clerks together in the bank.” 

‘‘ You trusted him?” 

“Implicitly.” 

“ You had no reason, in tact, to do otherwise?” 

“ No; his conduct and his character have always been irreproach- 
able.” 

“ How long has he been cashier? 

“ Six years.” 

“ During which time he has had one ot the keys of the strong- 
room?” 

“Yes; and 1 had the other.” 

“ Nothing has ever been missed before?” 

“ Nev— ” began Mr. Waldo. “ 1 beg your pardon— once, about 
two years ago. Borne Russians. 1700 lb68 bonds.” 

“ Oh! Did you suspect any one then?” 

“ We never went so far. The bonds were found next day.” 

“ Where?” 

“ In — one of my own drawers.” 

“Really. How stranael” 

“ I had taken them out inadvertently, 1 presume, and forgot the 
circumstance.” 

Mr. Solicitor rose to pretest against this line of cross-examina- 
tion. It was going too far. Did his learned brother mean to in- 
sinuate that the banker had stolen his own bonds? 

Sergeant Standaloft licked his lips freely. “ My object is plain, 
m’ lud. 1 desire to convey to the jury that it these Russian bonds 
weie removed the Portuguese might have been removed too.” 

“It is an insinuation against Mr. Waldo,” protested the solic- 
itor-general. “ Why should he remove, convey, or, in other words, 
misappropriate, his own property? or, it he did, what harm?” 

“ None in the least. But by removing these Russians from the 
strong-room, where they were sate, to the drawer in his desk they 
ceased to be safe. Anybody might have taken them. The same 
might have happened to the Portuguese. That is my point.” 

“ 1 am nr t disposed to interfere,” said the judge. “ It will be 
for the jury to decide how far the suggestion has weight.” 

“ Well, now, Mr. Waldo,” went on Sergeant Standalott, “ we’ll 
any no more about the Russian bunds. 1 want to ask you a (|uea- 


72 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


tion or two about your key— the strong room key. Where do you 
carry it?" 

“ Here, on my watch-chain.” 

” Always?” 

*• Invariably.” 

You and it never part company, in tact?” 

“ Never. It is an old habit. I always wear my watch. ” 

•• And at night— where do you wear it?” (A laugh.) 

“ Under my pillow.” (Renewed laughter.) 

” And no one could tamper with it; not even your wife?” 

” We occupy different rooms.” 

“ Do any of the servants have access to your bedroom when you 
are not in bed— before you are dressed, 1 mean, in your bath, you 
know, and so forth?” 

‘‘ Not that 1 am aware of.” 

“ Your valet, say?” 

” 1 have no valet.” 

** In fact, your bedroom is absolutely private to yourself. No 
one enters it but yourself while you are in it, or before you leave 
it for good, that is to say? No one; you are quite sure?” 

“ Fanchelte has sometimes brought me a message from my 
wife.” 

” Oho! Fanchette has brought you a message from your wife. 
Who, pray, is Fanchette?” 

‘‘Mis. Waldo’s maid.” 

” Why did you not tell me this before?” 

” 1 never thought — ” 

Here the solicitor -general again interposed, and objected to the 
question. 

Sergeant Standaloft insisted. 

‘‘ The point is the custody of a key which gives access to a treas- 
ure-chest or strong-room. Is this always in safe keeping? 1 have 
elicited, 1 submit, that it is not. It might have been removed or 
tampered with by this Fanchette.” 

‘‘ There is not a particle of evidence in support of this assump- 
tion,” retorted Mr. Solicitor. 

‘‘ We propose to call Mademoiselle Fanchette,” said Sergeant 
Standaloft. ‘‘ That will do, Mr. "Waldo. 1 have done with you!” 

After this there were doubts in the court whether the case was 
so clear against Mr. Surtees after all. 

Rut the hopes that were raised in Mr. Surtees’s favor by the cross* 


PAST AKD LOOSE. 

examiDalioD of Mr. Waldo died away when Pashe was put in ll)e 
box. 

The evidence given by the detective was explicit, and terribly to 
the point. The tattered contract was put in and exhibited to the 
jury. Fapke described how it came into his possession, and the 
clew it gave him to the missing bonds. He detailed the steps taken 
to track them— from Higgins and Stumper to Benoliels’, from the 
jobber's to Houndsditch, and so to Amsterdam. 

“ Does my learned brother,” said Sergeant Standaloft, ready to 
contest every inch of ground, ” intend to produce these bonds from 
Amsterdam? If not, 1 object to their being referred to in court.” 

The solicitor aamfited that they could not be produced. 

This temporary advantage was, how’ever, scon nullified when 
Faske went on to give the result of his search in Mr. Surtees's 
room, and the discovery in the cashier’s tin box of a parcel of 
bends exactly agreeing in numbers and description with those 
which had disappeared. 

“ Just so,” said Mr. Solicitor, briefly, as, with a look of triumph 
toward his antagonist which meant ‘‘ Beat that it you can I” he sat 
down. 

Nothing came of the cross examination of Mr. Faske. That 
self-possessed official was too imperturbable and his evidence too 
straightforward to be easily shak(-n. 

Percy Meggitt was the next witness called. He came forward, 
as he told Faske, with the utmost reluctance, and it really seemed 
from the way ho spoke that it grieved him greatly to bear testi- 
mony against the cashier. 

But his evidence was very damaging, especially that part which 
referred to the conversation between him and the cashier as to the 
disposal of certain stock. 

On this point the prosecuting counsel sought precise information, 
'the prisoner told you he wished the stock sold quietly?” 

“He did.” 

" Privately— in fact, secretly?” 

“Privately, certainly.” 

“ Had you any notion at that time why the prisoner wished to 
realize his funds?” 

Meggitt faltered and looked down. 

“ Was Mr. Hiirtees embarrassed?” went on the solicitor-general. 

“ 1 am not sure. I believe— That is to say, 1 fancy — ” 

“ Did not the prisoner tell you he had to pay up a large sum just 
then?” 


PAST AND LOOSE. 




“He did.” 

“ Did he say for what purpose? A bill, was it— or a debt, of 
what?” 

“A debt of his son’s; a gambling debt.” 

“ He told you that— you remember?” 

“ Yes, perfectly.” 

The examination- in-chief now passed on to the picking-up of 
tlie tattered brokers’ contract in Mr. Surlees’s room. It was dragged 
out of Meggitt that the cashier was so much perturbed at the 
other’s entrance that he tried Ic destroy the document, but failed. 
Meggitt then said that he picked it up and gave it to Faske.and his 
testimony against Mr. Surtees ended. 

It was now Sergeant Standaloft’s turn. 

“ How did you obtain possession of that torn contract?” he 
asked. 

“ 1 found it on the floor,” replied Meggitt. 

“ Was Mr. Surtees in the room?” 

“ No; he had gone out in answer to a summons from Mr. 
Waldo.” 

“ And you remained behind?” 

“ No; 1 went out with him.” 

“ And then returned?” 

“ Yes.” 

'• On purpose to pick up the paper; 1 see. What benefit would 
the cashier’s conviction be to you?” 

“ To mel None that 1 am aware of.” 

“ You are next on the list, assistant-cashier 1 believe. If there 
was a vacancy as cashier 1 presume you would succeed?” 

“ 1 really can not say. 1 am entirely in the hands of the firm.” 

“ You stand well with them?” 

“ I hope so; but 1 must refer you to them.” 

“ Tou would, no doubt, stand better if you helped them to con- 
vict Mr. Surtees?” 

Meggitt did not answer. 

“It was to show your zeal and get the credit of it that yoti 
stole—” 

“ Stole!” Meggitt looked at the solicitor-general for protection, 
who half rose to protest. 

“ 1 say ‘ stole ’ advisedly. Those pieces of paper, the remains of 
the brokers’ contract, were not your properly, "you had no right 
to the contract. Yet you took it. What did you do with it?” 

“ 1 put it by.” 


FAST AND LOOSE. 75 

*' For future use — eh? And when did you give it to the detect- 
ive?” 

“ Some weeks later.” 

“ Of your own accord?” 

“ No; he forced me to surrender it. He said 1 should be impli- 
cated if 1 did not.” 

This was not quite what Mr. Standaloft expected, so he passed 
on to another branch of the cross-examination. 

“You have deposed that Mr. Surtees confided to you that he 
had a large surh of money to pay for his son. Had you no other 
knowledge of the lad?” 

Mr. Meggitt’s assurance rather failed him at this question, and 
his answer was long in coming. 

‘‘Well, sir,” said the sergeant, putting out his tongue, ‘‘how 
, long do you intend to keep the court wailing? Had you no other 
knowledge, 1 repeat, of this gambling-debt?” 

‘‘ 1 was aware of it.” 

” ho told you of it?” 

‘‘ No one.” 

‘‘ Then how did yon know of it? Did you see it incurred?” 

‘‘ Yes,” said Meggitt, but with manifest reluctance; and then it 
came out— that the money had been lost at Meggitt’s club, by one 
of its guests to another, although he himself had not joined in the 
play. 

‘‘ Who was the winner?” asked the sergeant. 

‘‘ A foreign nobleman,” answered Meggitt, with some swagger. 

‘‘Baron? No! Count? No! Marquis? Yesl Oh: a mar- 
quis. Indeed. Of what nationality?” 

‘‘ Spanish.” 

‘‘ His name?” 

“ The Marquis de Ojo Verde.” 

‘‘ Is he in England now?” 

‘‘ No, he has gone abroad to visit some of his estates.” 

*‘ And you helped him to Mr. Surtees’s money?” 

” 1 did nothing of the kind,” cried Meggitt, indignantly. 

‘‘ That will do, Mr. Meggitt,” said the sergeant, with some 
icorn, and the assistant-cashier was about to leave the box when 
the counsel detained him. ‘‘One word: Mr. Waldo has said that 
the clerks sometimes remained in the bank after hours? Did you 
ever so remain?” 

”1? Frequently.” 

‘‘Alone?” 


76 


PAST AND LOOSE. 


“ Alone, and with others.” 

This last evidence set Sir Richard Daunt thinking. His mind 
was filled with vague suspicions — was Mr. Surtees the victim of 
some base conspiracy, some plot to ruin him and get him out of 
the way? But it so, why? Merely to secure Meggitt’s advance- 
ment in the bank? Was that a suflBcient reason? He could hardly 
think so. Besides, the assistant -cashier could not be certain that 
he would benefit by the cashier’s downfall. He could not count 
on promotion as a matter of course. 

Ihe plot, it plot there was, must have some deeper foundation, 
and the mere idea brought Sir Richard’s deductive faculties at once 
into play. 

The defense set up for Mr. Surtees was ingenious but weak. It 
depended mainly on Mr. Waldo’s admissions— first, that he had 
already mislaid bonds, and next, that his strong-room key might 
have fallen into other hands. 

The cashier’s own line of defense had not found favor with his 
lawyers. He stoutly declared that the bonds disposed of were his 
own property — that he had bought, them years previously to hold 
as an investment. This assertion, made with so much persistence. 
Was thoroughly sifted by Mr. Levi Liljearth; but there were fiaws 
in it which the attorney could not fail to detect. 

How was it that the numbers cf the bonds discovered in the 
cashier’s possession were identical with those lost from the bank? 
Mr. Surtees declared there must be some mistake in the bank se- 
curity-book. It was kept by different hands— now by one clerk, 
now by another, now by the head of the firm. There was a gleam 
of hepe in this direction, but it was extinguished when Mr. Waldo 
was recalled, and stated that he had himself entered the numbers 
of this particular parcel of Portuguese stock. Besides, Mr. Surtees’s 
position would only have been tenable by supposing that there had 
been a fraudulent substitution of bonds by some person or persons, 
and of this there w'as no evidence, and indeed no suspicion. 

It was still more unfortunate that Mr. Surtees, although he de- 
clared that he had bought these bonds of his through a broker, 
could produce no record of the transaction. He had not retained 
the old contract, nor had he paid for them by check. They were 
bought, he said, with a legacy which came to him through his de- 
ceased wife, and the money had been paid over in hard cash. He 
remembered the broker’s name, but the man had long since given 
up business, and could not be found. He was either dead or he 
bad disappeared. 


FAST AKD LOOSE. 


77 


These were serious flaws, indeed, and they made Mr. Liljeaith 
rather hopeless about his client’s case. Serjeant Slaudaloft was 
not much more sanguine, but he snatched eagerly at the chances 
Mr. ^Val^lo had given him. 

Mile. Fouchetle Duinoulin was hurriedly subpoenaed, and 
brought down to the Old Bailey. 

The French maid did not appear the least disconcerted as she 
stepped into the w'itness-box; but she only said “ Plait il" to the 
first question pul to her, and her examination was conducted 
through an interpreter. 

They could not make much of of her. She was highly indignant 
when she was asked if she had ever gone into Mr. Waldo’s room. 
Before he was up? Never. It would have been impossible. 
Moreover, monsieur was so matinal, so early a riser. 

“ But while he was dressing, ma’m’zelle?” pursued the sergeant. 
Then, certainly. Several times. Mrs. Waldo sent her with mes- 
sages to ask monsieur to return soon that day. To say that ma- 
dame would cal! for trim at the bank; family matters like that, 
many of them; they took her to Mr. Waldo’s room. 

“ Did you ever enter it when he was not there?” 

No; it was because he was there that she went. 

“ You never found Mr. Waldo absent temporarily?” 

Never; to the best of her recollection, never. 

Cross-examined by the solicitor-general, Fanchetto denied all 
knowledge of Mr. Waldo’s watch and chain. 

Had never seen them. Did not know where he kept them. 
"Under his pillow? It was possible— she had not looked. It was 
not her business. "What did they mean? did they think she had 
stolen them? She was an honest woman— an honorable woman, 
of decent family. It was an Insult to make such a charge. 

The solicitor-general reassured her, declaring that her personal 
character was not in question, and let her go. 

After this, and the usual speeches, the judge summed up, much 
against the prisoner. The jury must not be led astray from the 
main point, viz., that the bonds had been lost, and that some of 
them had been found in the piisoner's possession. The prisoner 
could not account for it, except by stating that they were his own 
property. But he made no attempt to prove this by showing how 
he had acquired them. The .sale of other bonds of the sanie cate- 
gory w’as another suspicious fact. As these bonds could not be pro- 
duced, this fact was not sutfleient for conviction: but when taken 
in connection with the unexplained possession of the others it must 


78 


PAST AKD LOOSE. 


have its weight with the jury. Then there was the urgent need 
for a large sum ot money, as deposed to by the witness Meggitt, 
with the prisoner’s desire to sell some stock secretly. Last of all, 
the facilities enjoyed by the prisoner for removing the bonds must 
clearly be borne in mind. He held a key of the strong-room; only 
one other person had the same facilities, and the defense had 
failed to establish that that person had mislaid, or was careless as 
to the custody ot, his key. 

No one in court was surprised that the verdict of the jury was 
•' Guilty,” and the sentence penal servitude for seven years. 

Even Sir Richard Daunt was compelled to acknowledge that 
the evidence was strong against his friend. Either Mr. Surtees 
had misappropiiated the bonds, or he was the victim of some in- 
famous and dastardly conspiracy. 

Was it the latter? It so, the mystery should be unraveled 
sooner or later— of that Sir Richard was determined. 


CHAPTER 511. 

A TANGLED SKEIN. 

While Bob, broken-hearted, and full ot bitter reproaches, went 
to have a last inteiview with his father. Sir Richard Daunt made 
all speed to Chiswick. He had to break the news to poor Joseph- 
ine, who awaited there, in sickening anxiety, the result ot the 
trial. He had sent in his name and was at once admitted. Joseph- 
ine seemed to gather from the gravity of his face that he brought 
bad news. 

“ It has gone against us then?” she said, vainly endeavoring to 
control her tears. 

‘‘ Yes, the evidence was so strong.” 

” Evidence!” cried Josephine, indignantly. ” Then it was false. 
Nothing can make me believe that my father committed this 
wrong.” 

•‘Believe me, Josephine ’’—she started slight]^ when he called 
her by her Christian name. What he had said to her, sw'eet and 
tender though it was, on that terrible night that her father had been 
carried to prison, had been eclipsed almost by the troubles that had 
followed. But now it came upon her with a sense of intense relief 
that a true man had offered her his love in this moment of supreme 
trial. 


FAST A KB LOOSE. 


^9 


“Believe me, Josepbine,’’ he went on, “ 1 am as convinced of 
his innocence as you are. Mr. Surtees has been sacrificed through 
some infamous plot: the mystery of which shall j-et be unraveled, 
1 swear. In the meantime — ” 

“ What is to become of my father?” interrupted Josephine. 
“ Is he to lie in prison until justice is done to him?” 

“ There is no help for (hat, 1 fear. He has been duly sentenced 
according to law, and the law must take its course. Let us ear- 
nestly pray that the hour of his vindication will not be long de- 
layed. 1 shall spare no effort to vindicate his good name. It will 
be a solemn duty lor all his children, and you know 1 count my- 
self as one now.” He put out his hand to take hers, but to his 
surprise Josephine shrunk from him. 

“ No, no,” she faltered, “ you must forget all that.” 

“ Forget that you have plighted me your troth I Never!” 

“ It is absolutely impossible. Sir Richard Daunl. For the pres- 
ent everything must be at an end between us.” 

“ 1 can never agree to that,” retorted the young man, promptly. 
“ Now more than ever you will need mj' protection and suppoit. 
1 will not surrender my claim. You must and shall be my wife.” 

There was a long silence, during which Josephine, with her face 
hidden in her hands, wept bitterly, while Daunt waited in great 
anxiety for her answer. 

“ No, Sir Richard,” she said at length. “ While this stain rests 
upon our family 1 can not be your wife. It would not be fair to 
you. You must not associate yourself with us. It shall never 
be said that Lady Daunl is the daughter of a man in prison.” 

“ W'ho will dare to say anything against my wife? and when we 
prove that that man is innocent, as we assuredly shall, all evil 
tongues will be silenced forever.” 

“ We must wait till then, Sir Richard Daunt,” said Josephine, 
sadly but firmly. “ Until my father’s good name is restored 1 can 
not accept your offer.” 

“ But you love me, Josephine?” 

“ I do, more and more; and that is why 1 refuse.” 

“It is hard, very hard, to submit. Your decision -although, 
believe me, 1 respect the motives which inspire it— is cruel, very 
cruel to ycurself and me.” 

“ The time will soon pass, dear friend. It will be one of proba- 
tion and suffering perhaps, but that will make us the more anxious 
to hasten the end. The day my father is righted and set free 1 
promise to become your wife.” 


80 


FAST AND DOOSE. 


“ Siicli a promise is a richer j^uerdon than any oEfered to a 
kniplit of old. I will strive to win it with all my heart and soul. 
But i shall see you sometimes?” he went on, struck with a sudden 
fear that Josephine intended to bid him good-bye. 

” 1 do not know; 1 can not say. It will depend, of course, on 
what becomes of me, and where 1 go.” 

” Have you thought at all? Have you made any plans? Your 
relations, will they take you in?” 

"We have no near relations; but 1 would not stoop to ask any one 
lor help. It is too soon to say what 1 intend to do, but 1 am re- 
solved to work to earn an honest living somehow- until my father 
returns.” 

” That must not be. It is your brother’s place to find you a 
home.” 

” Bob is even less capable than 1 am, 1 fear, to earn a livelihood. 
Besides, 1 ccmld not go and stay with him in barracks;” and, in 
spile of her grief, Josephine smiled slightly at the thought. 

“ Bob must leave the army. VVe must get him a situation here 
or in the country with a sufficient income, and then you can keep 
house for him.” 

“That would be pleasant enough; but at any rate 1 am ready, 
and resolved, indeed, to do my share.” 

“ You will not hesitate to send to me. Promise me that,” said 
Daunt, earnestly, “ if ever you ere in trouble or difficulty. It will 
be my only pleasure, as it will be my duty, to watch over the wel- 
fare of my future wife. Y’ou will promise me?” 

“ Y’es,” replied Josephine, simply, and she put her hand into his 
in proof of her sincerity. But Sir Richard Daunt would not be 
satisfied with such a cold acquiescence. Without a word of warn- 
ing he snatched her into his arms and covered her with kisses. 
This brief love-passage was barely ended before Bob came in. He 
arrived straight from the Old Bailey armed with his father’s in- 
structions, and was prepared then amt there to talk over the arrange- 
ments for the future. They made no stranger of Sir Richard 
Daunt, although he suggested that he should withdraw. 

“Mo, no!” said Bob. “You must not run away. We shall 
probably want your advice. Father says,” he went on, turning to 
Josephine, “ that this house had better be let furnished, if possible, 
or sold. That would give you a sufficient income for the present, 
unless—” 

“ U is like poor dear papa,” said Josephine, interrupting hastily, 


tfAST AND LOOSE. 81 

V'to think of mo first in his great trouble; but 1 hope 1 shall not 
■w^int for means.” 

‘'1 think 1 can guess!” cried Bob, looking delighted. ” Some- 
thing is going to happen.” 

” lou are mistaken, Bob,” interrupted Sir Richard; your sis- 
ter means — ” 

"Sir Richard Daunt and 1 understand each other,” interrupted 
Joseph’oe, in her turn speaking rather peremptorily. ‘‘lie has 
had his answer, and there is an end of the matter. 'VVhat do you 
suppose the house would fetch?” she added, in a cold, matter-of- 
fact voice. Alter which the conversation was of a purely business 
character. 

Sir Richard Daunt did not return to his ohambeis in the Al- 
bany till late that evening. To his surpiise he found among his 
letters cne from Mrs. Waldo. 

” What can that old devil have to say to me?” he exclaimed. 

It was a note of only half-a-dozen lines, and ran as follows; 


" My dear Sir Richard,— You would be conferiing a very 
great favor upon me if you would call and see me some time to- 
morrow forenoon, say about twelve. 1 am in very great trouble, 
and most anxious to consult you. It is a matter of the utmost im- 
portance to some friends of yours as well as to myself, and 1 should 
feel deeplv grateful to you for your advice. 

‘‘ Very sincerely yours, 

” Aurelia Waldo. 


“ The Rookery, Kew.” 


“ Some friends of mine? Can she mean the Surteeses? What can 
she have to say about them? Clothing, except to abuse them. 1 
sha’n’t go,” and, full of this deteimiuation, he went to bed. 

The morning brought wiser counsels. Daunt felt that he ought 
not to lose a single chance. Something useful might come of an 
interview with Mrs. Waldo. In any case he might be able to find 
out more about Fauchette, the French maid. 

It was she who received him when he arrived at the Rookery. 

“ Madame expects you,” was the greeting. ‘‘ She told me (o be 
on the lookout for monsieur. Will he give himself the pain to 
follow?” 

" Mademoiselle is very good,” said Daunt, in excellent French. 
'* Mademoiselle is a Parisian, of couise?” 

Fanchette simpered at the compliment so dear to Frenchwomen. 

‘‘ But yes, monsieur. Pariakn to the finger-tips.” 

“ 1 knew 1 might rely upon you, Sir Richard,” said Mrs. Waldo, 


82 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


t 


when he was introduced. “It is most kind of you to pay suc’u 
prompt attention to my request.” 

“May 1 ask in what way 1 can serve you, Mrs. Waldo?’ in- 
quired Sir Richard, courteously. “ "iou referred in your note to 
some triends of mine who were closely concerned. Will you tell 
me their names?” 

“ 1 will at once. 1 mean those dreadful Surteeses.” 

“ Pardon me, Mrs. Waldo,” said the young baronet, very stiffly, 
“ the Surteeses are friends of mine, really and truly, and not in the 
commonplace sense. 1 can not hear anything against them.” 

“ You will change your opinion, I’m sure, when you hear what 
1 have to tell. Of course you know about the father?” 

Sir Richard bowed. 

“ Well, the girl is a thief, too.” 

“Mrs. Waldo!” Sir Richard’s indignation was such that he 
almost sprung to liis feet. 

" 1 am certain of it,” went on Mrs. Waldo. “ As perfectly 
convinced as if I had seen her steal the things.” 

“ What things, may 1 ask?” went on Sir Richard, striving, in 
Josephine’s interest, to keep calm. 

“ Some papers, which 1 keep here in this room. Papers of the 
utmost — the deepest — importance to me; they have disappeared, 
like the bonds at the bank.” 

“ Have you told Mr. AValdo?” 

“ No, 1 have net. 1 can not very well speak about these papers to 
him. They were letters — private letters— of rather a delicate nat- 
ure. written at a time when — well, before 1 became Mrs. Waldo, 
you understand, and 1 did not wish to speak of them to him. So 
that is why 1 thought 1 would see you first, and try to get them 
back.” 

“ See me! 1 am at a loss to understand how 1 can help you, Mrs. 
Waldo.” 

“ You have influence over this girl. She is a great friend of 
yours. Ycu admire her— ah, yes. Sir Riehard, trust a woman for 
finding out such things-” 

“ i assure you, Mrs. Waldo, you are mistaken. It is gossip of the 
worst kind, scandalous gossip, which connects my name with Miss 
Surtees, a young lady I esteem highly, but over whom 1 have no 
influence, believe me, such as you suppose.” 

“ Then 1 shall appeal to the police. The prapers 1 must and will 
have back.” 

“ Of course you have evidence in support of this charge?” 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


83 


y “To be sure.” 

“ Remember, It is an accusation ot the most odious kind. Un- 
lesa you are quite certain ot what you say, you may be doing an 
innocent girl an irreparable wrong. Just as—" 

He stopped short. Why let Mrs. Waldo into his secret teelings 

with regard to the condemnation ot the cashier? 

“ 1 have the best evidence— Fanchette’s. She was seen here, this 
girl— heie in my room— during the time ot the theatricals. Vvhy 
did she come here except for some improper purpose? Soon after 
that 1 missed the packet of letters.” 

“ You must have more than that to go upon, Mrs. Waldo, before 
you accuse people of stealing,” said Sir Richard, stitBy. 

‘‘ But what could she have been doing in my room?” 

” We had better ask her; that is to say, if she was really here.” 

“ Fanchette found her: 1 myself saw the skirt of her dress as 
she ran out. 1 am certain she took the letters. They are a dis- 
reputable lot — these Surteeses.” 

Has Mr. Waldo missed any shirt-studs? Hadn’t you better 
have the forks counted? Mr. Robert Surtees has dined here more 
than once.” 

” Now you are laughing at me— and it is no laughing matter. 1 
must recover those papers. They might do terrible mischief it they 
fell into the wrong hands. You will speak to Josephine Surtees, 
Sir Richard? Get thtm for me. 1 will pay her anything in reason.” 

“ 1 would not insult Miss Surtees by repeating your odious, in- 
famous suspicions,” replied Sir Richard, sternly. ” They are 
most unfounded, of that 1 have no doubt; and if you continue to 
persecute her 1 shall advise her to appeal to Mr. Waldo for pro 
tection.” 

And leaving Mrs. Waldo with rather a white, scared face, Sir 
Richard Daunt withdrew. 

He walked back by Chiswick, and called in at the Mall. Jcseph- 
ine was at home, and Bob was with her. After some conversation 
upon the topic all had mtst near at heart, the situation of Mr. 
Surtees, Sir Richard tried cautiously and carefully to ascertain 
whether or not Josephine had entered Mrs. Waldo’s bedroom at 
the Rookery. 

‘‘ 1 have just been to the Waldos,” he said. 

‘‘ Whom did you see?” asked Bob, eager to have some news of 
his Helena. 

“ Only the old lady. How savage it would make her to hear me 
call her oldl” 


84 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


“ Was she very bitter against us?” inquired Josephine. 

” What she said is not worth repeating. She is a malicious, 
evil-disDOScd woman, arid as wicked, 1 expect, as she is selnsh.” 

‘‘ You don’t spare her,” said Josephine. 

‘‘ Her selfishness is evident. She takes the best ot everything. 
Her boudoir is one of the best rooms, and 1 have no doubt her 
bedroom is the same.” 

” Where is it?” asked Josephine, evidently in perfect good faith. 

” It looks over the garden. 1 believe; in fact, 1 think it opens 
out from the boudoir. 1 could see that much. Have you ever 
been into it?” 

1? Never! Neither into the bedroom nor the boudoir. What 
sliould take me there? Mrs. Waldo never showed me any particu- 
lar favor.” 

“ 1 liave seen the bedroom,” cried Bob, with a wink. “ It’s a 
clipper, i can tell you.” 

” Have YOU seen it, Bob?” 

” Y’es, once. It may sound odd; but I’ll fell you how it was.” 

And Bob described his hunt with Helena for Fanchelle, whom 
they found at last in Mrs. W aide’s room. 

” And Mrs. Waldo almost caught you, you say? How were you 
dressed?” 

‘‘In petticoats, of course, as the Widow Twankay. 1 dare say 
she saw a bit of mj' skirt.” 

Sir Richard was amazed at this cliscovery. It was quite clear 
that Fancbelte had willfully brought a false accusation against 
Josephine. 

But with what object? To divert suspicion? From whom? 

Probably from herself. Fanchette had probably discovered the 
importance of these letters, meaning, somehow and some day, to 
turn their possession to her own account. Meanwhile, it would 
be necessary to find a scape goat, and she chose Josephine— the sis- 
ter, in preference to her brother, because it would seem more nat- 
ural that she should go to Mrs. Waldo’s bedroom. It was safer, 
too, because Bob might, if accused, call upon his companion 
Helena to prove the innocent cause of his visit. 

But why accuse either ot them? Why not one of the house- 
maids, or some other guest? 

Because the Surteeses were in trouble. Because the father was al- 
ready accused ot theft. 

Stay— Mr. Surtees had not been arrested on that day of the dress 
rehearsal, and there had been no mention ot the robbery outside a 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


85 


very narrow clique. It Fanchelfe knew it, it must be in 6ome un- 
deihand way. It looked very much as though sue anticipated the 
arrest. 

How had she learned that the cashier was to be accused of thett? 
Had she overheard some fragment of conversation between Mr. 
and Mrs. Waldo, or was she in some ether way behind the scenes? 
The first move in unraveling the tangled skein was to set a watch 
upon Mile. Fanchette. 

N 


CHAPTER Xlll. 

CAUSE AND EFFECT. 

Mk. Dandy, the senior partner, as the reader will remember, re- 
sided at Wimbledon. He was old, fond of his ease, reputed very 
rich, having no one, so far as the world knew, to spend his money 
on but himself. 

This he did right royally, indulging his peculiar tastes to the 
lull. Mr. Dandy was a dilettante, a connoisseur, and a collector 
on a large scale. His home at Wimbledon was crammed full of 
valuable possessions. 

Here, in the midst of his priceless belongings, Mr. Dandy spent 
the greater part of his time, examining and enjoying them to the 
utmost. He was so employed on the day of Sir Richard Daunt’s 
visit to the Rookery, and Mrs. Waldo’s fruitless appeal. Mr. 
Dandy was, as usual, at home. 

“ It is a head of Bacchus. There can te no doubt of that, and 
the date probably the eleventh century. What is it, Barable?” he 
said fretfully, as his personal attendant, a discreet, middle aged 
man, who had been with him for a quarter of a century, entered, 
carrying a richly chased silver salver, the work of the Spaniard, 
Durte, on wbich was a letter. “ You know 1 hate to be interrupted 
at this time of the day.” 

‘‘ A note, sir, marked ’ very urgent,’ brought over by a groom 
from Kew.” 

“ Prom Kew!” Mr. Dandy seemed intensely surprised. Ihen, 
with a gesture of half protest, he took the note and looked at it. 

“ Aurelia Waldc. What can the woman have to say to me?” 

” Dear Onesimus,” was what she had to say, “you must come 
over and speak to me at once. It is serious— most serious. I 
shall be at home only to you.” 

“Bother the womanl Why can’t she leave me alone? 1 sup- 


86 


fAST AND LOOSE. 


pose she has been doing something foolish, and wants me to get 
lier out of her scrape.” Then he walaed toward the writing- 
table, tor Barablc had been still standing there waiting for an 
answer. 

” No, 1 won’t write. People are much loo fond of writing. She 
was, for cne,” he muttered; then added aloud, ‘‘ Say there is no 
answer, but that 1 will call.” 

A couple of hours later, after his frugal lunch— for Mr. Dandy 
was very careful of himself— he got into his brougham, and was 
driven to the Rookery. 

‘‘ 1 beg your pardon,” began Mrs. "Waldo, but with some hesita- 
tion; ‘‘ 1 beg your pardon for having disturbed you so abruptly, 
but it is absolutely necessarj' that 1 should speak to you at once. 
Something very serious has happened.” 

“ Serious to whem? To you?” 

“ To both of us, although the scandal, if anything comes of it, 
will probably fall on me.” 

” That is the general way of the world, my dear madam. It is 
a wicked world, and 1 am afraid we can not alter it.” 

“ But at any rale you are bound, as a gentleman, to protect me 
to the utmost of your power.” 

” Naturally. "You can command me, of course. But you have 
not yet told me what has occurred.” 

“ A numbers of letters of yours to me, and mine to you — ” 

” Which i restored to you, you will remember, on the sole con- 
dition that you would destroy them at once.” 

“ And which, foolishly, 1 kept—” 

“ 1 presume for your own purpose,” he said, with a sneer, 

Mrs. "Waldo did not choose to understand the innuendo conveyed. 

At any rate which 1 kept,” she said, ” but in a perfectly secure 
place, as 1 thought, till now. But now 1 find those letters have 
been removed — stolen, in fact — within the last few weeks.” 

‘‘ My dear Aurelia, you don’t say so! How inconceivably care- 
less of you! But you women are all alike. Why on earth should 
you keep those letters at all? You knew how much depended on 
them.” 

” What is dene can’t be undone. It is no use wasting time in 
vain regrets. 1 acknowledge 1 w’as wrong. The thing is now, if 
possible, to remedy my mistake.” 

” Do you suspect any one?” 

‘‘ 1 more than suspect. 1 am pretty certain 1 know the thief.’ 


FAST AND LOOSE. 87 

Then Mts. Waldo proceeded to (ell Mr. Dandy wliat she had a'..- 
ready told Sir Richard Daunt. 

“That is not much to go upon,” said Mr. Dandy, who had 
listened attentively throughout. “ It would be very wrong to ac- 
cuse Miss Surtees on such grounds as these.” 

“ Rut 1 tell you, Onesimus, I am certain she took them,” per- 
sisted Mrs. Waldo, with all th6 illogical obstinacy of a frightened, 
angry woman. 

“ Whoever took them,” said Mr. Dandy, “ took them for a pur- 
pose — that we can safely conclude— and, having taken them, will 
presently show their hand.” 

“ What do you mean?” 

" Thai use will be made of these letters in some way or other, 
either to extort money from us, to levy blackmail in fact, or to get 
a price from the person who, afier us, would be most concerned.” 
“ Then what do yon think it would be best to do?” 

“ I'iothing much. Wait for their next move. We shall see then 
(he quarter from which it all comes, and act accordingly. If it 
le this Miss Surtees, which 1 can not believe, Ihere is not much to 
fear.” 

“ J<ot much to fear! Why, she would take a profound pleasure 
in blackening my character.” 

“ We could easily silence her in that case. But 1 do not think 
she’s the person.” 

“ Tiien you would not make any overtures to her now?” went 
on Mrs. Waldo, sticking still to her own interpretation of the 
theft. 

•' Certainly not. In the first place, we do not know that she 
has the letters. She is more probably innocent, and therefore 
ignorant of the whole affair. Any overtures to her would betray 
ns. No; we must look elsewhere. But 1 have a better plan, I 
think.” 

“ And that is—” 

“ Forestall the enemy. Make the secret worth nothing by con- 
ceding beforehand all or more than its possession would be likely 
to extort.” 

“ Would it be safe? Suppose the reasons, or even a hint ol 
them, crept out? 1 should be lost.” 

“ You can leave it safely in my hands, Aurelia. 1 had always 
intended to do something of this kind, and what has happened 
lately maKes it all the more easy,” 

” iou lift a load oft my Ir art, Onesimus. For the moment, I 


88 


PAST AND LOOSE. 


thought that exposure, shame, God knows what, would be my 
portion.” 

“Pooh, pooh! lou aie too easily trightcned. Trust to me.” 

And with these words Mr. Dandy who v^as ot the old school, 
lifted Mrs. Waldo’s hand to his lips and went his way. 

The appointment of cashier remained vacant for some daj's after 
Mr. Surtees’s conviction. Mr. Dandy was the first to raise the 
question by pointing out that the assistant-cashier, who was nat- 
urally the next for promotion, was really the most suitable person 
for the post. 

” Where could you find higher personal character, more exem- 
plary private life, than that of the wretch SuiteesV” retorted Mr. 
Dandy; ” yet see where they have landed him.” 

Mr. Waldo hesitated. ” 1 did not like what came out at the 
trial about that gambling transaction,” he said. 

‘‘He is young; but he knows his business and attends to it. 
Besides, it has always been our rule to recruit from within, and 
not from without.” 

‘‘ it is no doubt the wisest system.” 

” 1 am sure of it. Every clerk with us has the prospect of pro- 
motion to even the highest position Your example is conslantly 
before them. Surtees, wretched man, might have risen too; he 
was very near it, in fact, but he could not wait. Now, 1 urge 
Meggitt s appointment as cashier, because we must bring some one 
on.” 

‘‘ You would never make him a partner, surely?” asked A^aldo, 
in surprise. 

‘‘ Not yet, of course. But why not by and by? Do you ever 
look ahead, Waldo? What is to become ot the bank after you 
and me?” 

” 1 have not thought about it much, 1 confess. The simple way 
would be to take in partners.” 

‘‘Yes. But not from outside. Let us adhere to our traditions.” 

” A partner should bring something in, if only as a guarantee.” 

” Did you? Come, Waldo, don’t be illiberal.” 

‘‘ But I had, at least, the advantage in point ot years and length 
of service. Mr. Meggitt is still very young.” 

‘‘ That is his luck. The way has been cleared for him. Surtees, 
but for his miserable conduct, would have been before him, and 
when Meggitt’s turn came he would have been riper for the occa- 
sion. As it is— ” 

Waldo still shook his head, unconvinced. 


FAST AKD LOOSE. 


89 


“ Surely you are prejudiced against Meggitl,” went on Mr. 
Dandy. “ "What do you know ot him?” 

“Very little, indeea; that is my chief objecliou.” 

“ 1 will make it my business to inquire. 1 will find out all about 
him; his private life, habits, and character. Leave that to me. 1 
will trust to your report as to his business qualifications; his per- 
sonal shall be my affair.” 

Belore leaving the bank Mr. Dandy w'rote a short note to th« 
assistant-cashier, which both delighted and surprised Mr. Meggitt. 
It contained an invitation to dine at Wimbledon next day. 

For the Iriendliness was undoubted. Meggilt’s reception there 
was cordial in the extreme. The lellow was adroit enough, and he 
had learned how to please Mr. Dandy. He went into raptures over 
the art treasures. 

“ As you like such things, Mr. Meggitt, 1 will show you all my 
collections; 1 am rather proud of them. But by and by, tor here 
is dinner.” 

It was a plain dinner, but perfect of its kind. Clear ox-tail, salm- 
on cutlets, a small saddle of muttcn, apple fritters, then soft roes 
on mushroom toast, and that was all. ^ 

“1 live like a hermit, Mr. Meggitt,” said the banker; “I’m 
obliged to be very particular; only one glass of champagne, but 
that a large one— and the best, in spite ot the hard times.” 

“ Business is very bad, sir; it won’t get worse, I hope. 

“ 1 think not; at any rate, we shall escape a crisis, 1 trust. 1 
don’t want to see another.” 

“ 1 can remember ’66. It was terrible, even to a youngster, while 

it lasted.” , 

“ Nothing to 1825. 1 was a young man, too, at that time, and 

had only just joined the bank.” 

“ How long did it last, sir? 

“ A whole week. During fony-eight hours the strain was fright- 
ful. You couldn’t realize anything, not eveu Consols or Exchequer 
hills. The Mint couldn’t coin soveieigns fast enough, and the 

Bank of England was all but drained.” 

“The Bank ot England was much blamed, was it not, sir? 
Didn’t it increase its issues when the rage for speculation was at its 
height, then suddenly contracted them?” 

“ Certainly, and no doubt helped to bring about the crisis,^^ said 
Mr. Dandy, looking surprised at his junior’s knowledge. You 

seem to have studied the subject? 

'• It is my profession, sir,” replied Meggitt modestly. Ban 


90 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


ing in all its phases, historically and scientifically, has the deepest 
intereei for me.” 

“ I am glad to hear it,” said Mr. Dandy. ” A young man ought 
to have his heart in his work.” 

Having touched on the subject of money, the talk continued to 
be ” shoppy.” One seemed anxious to find out how much the other 
knew, and that other, nothing loath, readily paraded his knowledge 
They discussed all the great financial questions of the day, and on 
all Meggitt expressed himself with propriety and judgment. From 
reserves they passed to exchanges, and thence to discounts and in- 
vestments of capital. The keen competition of these modern times 
was mooted, more especially that between private and joint-stock 
banks. Both, naturally, were in favor ot their own class. 

” But 1 hardly know what to say,” Mr. Dandy ol served, shak- 
ing his head rather despondingly. ” They press us very close, these 
joint-stock concerns. They can extend their business so, while we 
have only an old connection. As that dies away, what are we to 
do?’ 

” Be enterprising. Strike < ut in a fresh Ime,” said Meggit with 
enthusiasm. ” Seek more outlets; open branches, if necessary, all 
over the country; attract depositors, and capital, and business, 
generally, by offering the most liberal terms.” 

” You are sanguine, but that is like a young man,” said Mr. 
Dandy, smiling. ” Some day, perhaps, we may take y(*ur advice. 
But now" let us leave the shop alone.” 

And then Mr. Dandy passed on to talk about Mr. Meggitt him- 
self. When they parted that night it must have been with a con- 
viction that the assistant-cashier always went to bed at ten, after a 
quiet dinner over a book, such as Hankey on the Bank of England, 
Capefigue on Companies, Bosanquet on Currency, or Fenn on the 
Funds. 

At least, that is what he told Mr. Waldo next day. 

” Depend upon it,” he added, ” we have got a treasure in that 
young man. He has views, enlightened, although, perhaps, venture- 
some views. You may be glad to listen to them some day. In any 
case, we can not do better at present than appoint him cashier. 1 
am seldom wrong in my estimate of men, and 1 think we shall do 
right in pushing Mr. Meggitt on.” 

And thus Percy Meggitt found himself on the high road to fort- 
une in W aldo’s bank. 


Jast akd loose. 


91 


CHAPTER XIV. 

WANTING EMPLOYMENT, 

TIot long after Mr. Surtees’s trial and sentence his children left 
the dear old house at Chiswick, which was soon let, lurnished, for 
a term of years and settled iu a Pimlico lodging. Josephine 
sought out and obtainett by her own exertions a situation in a Bond 
Street shop. Sir Richard Daunt was told nothing of this. He was 
not to know their whereabouts even. Bob also tried, but less suc- 
cessfully, to obtain seme emplcyinent. He wrote, too, from the 
club dozens and dozens of letters ot inquiry and reply, made in- 
numerable appointments and kept them failhtully, which the other 
side did not invariably do. Disappointment met him in all these 
directions. 

It would be wearisome to enumerate all the queer, shady by-ways 
of bread-winning he explored, always wdihout success. Was every 
avenue closed to him? He began to fear it and despaii. 

On*! day he had been all the way to Kilburn, again on a fruitless 
errand, and was sauntering idly home, when he entered, with the 
idea of getting some lunch, one of those second-class cate restau- 
rants, kept mosll3' by Italians, which are springing up in so many 
suburban thorough tares. 

He sal himself down at one of the tidy little tables and gave his 
order. While he waited to be served he looked arcund, and was 
at once attiacted by a couple, male and female, who were lunching 
at a neighboring table, and weie the only other occupants ot the 
room. The woman’s back was turned to him; it was a neat sym- 
metiical back, in a tight, well-fitting brown silk dress, crowned by 
a graceful head with plenty of black hair admirably arranged. 

But the man’s face he saw, and soon recognized, in spite of the 
thick black beard which changed somewhat the look of the lower 
pait. 

It was the Marquis de Ojo Verde, dressed with his usual care, 
but foreign still in aspect, with a wide turned-down collar cut very 
open at the throat, and a huge black silk bow, of the kind French- 
men affect, falling over a coat ot rather bright blue serge. 

The marquis and his companion conversed in French, a language 
with which Bob was not thoroughly conversant. But he could 
galher from occasional words that the dialogue was animated; the 


93 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


lady did not seem In the best of tempers, and the marquis was try- 
ing his best to pacify her. She was vraiment trop eongeante," 
Bob heard him say once, at which she shrugged her shoulders— 
they were very pretty sloping shoulders — and retorted in some sharp 
words he coul I cot understand. 

Neither ot them seemed to be disconcerted at Bob’s presence, 
nor indeed to have noticed his entrance. 

All at once the nmrquis h.oked and caught Bob’s eye. Bob 
winked, as much as to say, “ i won’t spoil sport,” but the other 
did not acknowledge the greeting by the slightest sign of recogni- 
tion. 

Soon afterward the pair rose from their seats, and while the 
marquis paid the bill the lady turned toward a neighboring mirror 
to lower and adjust her veil. 

Just for a second Bob caught a glimpse of her features, and 
taking them in connection with the neat, straight figure, and the 
general air of coquettish smartness, he felt certain he had seen the 
woman somewhere before. 

But where? He could not remember at first, and in his perplex- 
ity he stared hard at the lady, as, now closely veiled, she walked 
out of the shop. He was still taxing his memory, to give precision 
to this vague recollection, when he felt a friendly tap on his shoul- 
der, and looking round saw the marquis standine over him. 

” Caught! Fairly caught!” said the (hiban nobleman. ” There 
is, then, no seciecy, no privacy, no chance of a dejeuner en gtiin- 
guette in this great public town ot yours? Who would have thought 
to meet you here, respectable Mr. Surtees, in the far-off suburb of 
Kilburn? Did you come on purpose to discover my little amour- 
ette?" 

” A charming person, marquis, accept my coagratulaticns,” said 
Bob, in the same tone; “ but I think 1 have seen her before.” 

‘‘ That lady! Impossible. Where?” 

At the Rookery, Kew. At Mrs. Waldo’s. ‘Vou know?” 

"Who is Mrs. Waldo? 1 have never heard the name. And 
where is your Rookery? Among the trees? That lady is — ” 

“ Mrs. WaMo’s French maid, Fanchette.” 

The marquis roared with laughter. 

"A maid! a domestique ! that lady? It is toe absurd what you 
say. You are wrong, utteriy wrong, mon cJier; that much 1 may 
tell you, if no more. Do not press me, 1 beseech you; the secret 
is the lady’s, not mine.” 

" I confess 1 only saw Mile. Fanchette once— 1 should say twice. 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


93 


and that was under peculiar circumstances. Still 1 have a good 
memory for faces—” 

"All a mistake, mon cher. It is a hon fortune — that 1 will 
allcw, but not with a lady’s-maid. What an honor; a iady’s-maid, 
mafoi!’' 

‘‘It is not of much consequence, marquis,” said Boh, civilly. 
‘‘ ^Vhoever it was 1 shall not be likely to talk about it, you may be 
sure.” 

‘‘ Thank you, from my heart. Her grace, loo — peste, 1 had near- 
ly let the cat out of the bag. There, we will say no more about it. 
Eave you seen your friend Meggilt lately?” he went on, as if 
anxious to change the conversation. ‘‘ No? Nor 1. 1 am only 

just returned to England, after an al>sence of many months. Wo 
must arrange a meeting at an early day. Tou will like your re- 
venge at perhaps. Ah! a strange and capricious game. ” 

‘‘ 1 played it once too often, marquis,” Bob admitted, with a 
grave voice. 

‘‘ Fortune is fickle, my friend; your turn will come. Well, au 
revoir — or stay, can 1 take you back to town? 1 have kept my 
hansom. Don’t say no. Positively, 1 insist now.” And Bob 
could hardly refuse an offer so courteously made. 

It did not occur to him to think that the marquis was taking 
him back to London to prevent any pursuit of the mysterious un- 
known. 


CHAPTER XV. 

AT THE ROYAL ROSCIUS. 

When hope was nearly dead in him Bcb Surtees heard through 
his sister that there was some chance of his obtaining a dramatic 
engagement. Josephine had met Mrs. Bonastre in Bond Street, 
and the kind-hearted actress had half offered to take Bob on at the 
Royal Roscius. 

B(»b went to the theater, and was at length admitted to find them 
all busy at rehearsal. Mr. Bonastre at once sought his advice. 
The scene was an officer’s barrack-room; they tried to be very real- 
istic at the Roscius, and the manager confessed readily to Bob that 
he would be glad of any hints. 

The curtain was suppjosed to go up on this barrack-room scene. 
The stage was empty. 

Enter Conder, in a suit cf white drill— a soldier-servant to Mr 
pacre. 


94 


PAST ANI) LOOSE. 


Conder: Dacre’s a lighted-one, he is. Well he may be; going 
home to a fine fortune, after having nothing a year. Ko more 
regimental duty for him. Drat him! I’d liever blow a cloud and 
drain a quartern in the canteen than slave on here, a-packing his 
duds. Anyway the job’s nearly done. (Looks round at portman- 
teaus.) Faith, I’m nearly dead beat. (Sits in an arm chair.) Forty 
winks’ll do me no harm. (Disposes himself comfortably, and is 
.soon fast asleep.) 

A head appears at the back of the stage, where there is a large 
window opening on to the veranda, and looks cautiously in. 

Chatters (played by Mr. Bonastre). H’st (to some one below), 
fl’st. Come up. 

A second head appears, and two figures. Chatters and Worlige, 
both in convict dress, meep stealthily into the room. 

Chatters (approaching the table). He’s asleep. Now’s our 
chance to secure him But first turn down the lights. There, 
now we must gag and secure this chap. 

Worlige (viciously). Hadn’t 1 better brain him? 

Chatters. Quiet, you fool! We want no noise. He might yell. 
Get that side. Now, are you ready? One, two— thkee? 

From each side of the chair they seize Conder, who struggles 
violently, but is presently overpowered, gagged, and then securely 
tied. 

Chatters. That settles one of them. The other will te a tougher 
job, 1 expect. We sha’n’t catch him asleep. 

Worlige (who has been looking around the room, produces a 
hunting-knite which he has picked up). This will soon settle him. 

Chatters. Put that down, d’ye hear? I’ll have no bloodshed, 
I tell you, not except in the last extremity. But, come; he may 
get back now any minute. Look and see if all’s right. We’ll 
turn up the light, as it the man had only gone out for a minute, 
and then hide, 

(They go up the stage and out on to the balcony.) 

A noise of voices heard n.i. Door in wing b. opens suddenly, 
and a crowd of officers tumble in singing, “ For he’s a jolly gocd 
fellow, which noboOy can deny,” Herbert Dacre is in (heir midst, 
and they are patting him on the back or trying to shake hands 
with him. After solemnly singing “ Auld Lang Syne,” and heart- 
ily wishing Dacre good-bye, all retire but Dacre and Archie Legh. 

Dacre. Now, old chap, I’m not going to keep you up; oft you 
go to bed. 

Legh (who is slightly elevated), I’m going to see the Igst of 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


you— won’t go home till morning. Can’t trust you, Ileiberl, to 
go on board alone. 

Dacre. Well, there’s Conder, he’ll take care of me. By the 
way, 1 wonder where he is — the rascal! On the loose somewhere, 
1 don’t doubt. He'll miss his passage, 1 dare swear. 

Legh. Conder? Want Conder? Shall 1 go find him? 

Dacre. Yes, yes! Come along. (Exeunt r.i.) 

As soon as the stage is clear Chatters and Worlige look in at the 
window at back. 

Chatters. 1 th(>ught that drunken fellcw was going to slick 
here. My eyes, it did give me a start. VYe could hardly have 
managed them both. 

Worlige. Mebbe they’ll come back together. I’d stab ’em both, 
behind, and enjoy it. 

Chatters. H’st; someone’s at the door. 

Enter Dacre, k.i, 

Dacre. Obstinate old ass Archie Legh is, when he’s at all “ on,” 
and no mistake. 1 thought I’d never have got rid ot him. But 
where is my fellow, Conder? Has he left me in the lurch just at 
the last minute? (Loohs at watch.) Why, the wagon will be 
here in less than half an hour, and we shall have barely time tc 
get on board. Well, there’s not much to do. I’ll pack my mess- 
clothes myself. (Takes off red mess-jacket and waistcoat, folds 
them; goes to portmanteau, and kneels down to put them away.) 

While he is kneeling Chatters and Worlige creep down from the 
balcony, and suddenly throw themselves upon him. 

Dacre (shouts). Ah! villains! 

Chatters. Throttle him! Stop his mouth! 

Worlige, If you’d a let me have it my way I’d— (A fierce 
fight ensues, but at length Dacre is overpowered as his servant 
was, and treated in the same way.) 

Chatters. The game is ours. But we must look slippy. There’s 
no time to lose. First let’s get rid of the lag’s livery, and on with 
the gentleman’s clothes. Find a suit for yourself, Cockie. I’ll 
put on this. We’ll examine the swag to-morrow, when we’re well 
out at sea and past hue and cry. 

They retire behind screen, change rapidly, and return just as a 
loud knocKing comes at the doer. 

Chatters. Go and open the door. Remember, now, I’m master, 
an(t you’re man. 

Enter an old negro, grinning finm nr to ear. 


96 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


l^egro. Heah ye are, sahl Wagon am ready for de etart. 
Wbere am de boxes?” 

Worlige. Lend me a bond. Sambo. i 

" Negro. Me not Sambo. Me Holy Gabolos. ; 

Worlige. Well. Holy Gabos, or whatever your name is, buriy 
up, or we shall lose our passage. (The boxes are taken out 
quickly.) 

Chatters (following, but (urning first toward the balcony). ] 
Adieu ! Sir Herbert Dacre. 1 have to thank you for so kindly j 
facilitating my escape from Her Majesty’s hulks at Bermuda. 1 { 

have all your papers, and a good fortnight’s start. Tou may not j 
find it easy, when you follow to England, to dispossess Caere’s / 
double. j 

Curtain. 

There was a little round of applause from the stalls, where two * 
or three privileged friends had witnessed the rehearsal. 

” Indeed, Mrs. Bonastre,” Bob heard a voice that was familiar 
say, just behind him, ” a fine performance. T'he situation is strik- 
ing and original, and the piece admirably played. Mes compli- 
ments.” 

” The marquis! You here?’ said Bob surprised. 

“Yes, mon clter, from the first. It was dark; you did not see 
me. 1 adore the drama, and our tiiend Meggitt has presented me 
to Mrs. Bonastre, who, with her estimable husband, are the bright- 
est ornaments of the British stage. But you will have something 
to answer for, Mr. Bouastro, when this play becomes generally 
known.” 

“ Plow, marquis? Explain, please.” 

“ To see an escape so ingeniously contrived may inspire some 
poor devils — 1 am not liard upon Messieurs les formats. Theirs is 
a hard lot— it may inspire them with an idea lor breaking prison ■ 
when next they are in durance vile.” 

It was a very natural remark to make, and Bob listened to it 
without receiving any particular impression. Yet that remark 
came back to him long alter and with peculiar force, as the reader 
will by and by see. 

What diminished its eflect that moment at the Royal Roscius 
was that a summons came to Bob from the manager’s orhee. 

There he found Mr. Bonastre, who introduced him to a sleek, 
stout man in a tadly-fitting frock coat, and a face imperfectly 
shaved. 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


97 

" Tliis, Surtees, is my secretary, Mr. Lamb. He has a word to 
say tc you from me.” 

The word was an offer of an engagement for six months certain 
at three guineas a week. 


CHAPTER XVI. 
daunt’s quest. 

Months passed. Poor old Surtees was still immured in his soli- 
tary cell; sweet Josephine went daily, wet or fine, to Bond Street; 
big Bob gained experience and reputation upon the boards of the 
Royal Roscius. 

Sir Richard Daunt, however, since last we met him, had had his 
troubles. After vainly striving to overbear Josephine’s determina- 
tion to break with him, at least for the present, he had gone abroad. 
It w’as to have been a short trip to the Bernese Alps, but the short 
trip had been prolonged almost indefinitely by an accident— a blow 
<>n the knee-cap. February was nearly over before he got to Paris, 
and there also he was detained. Atter his return to London, but 
for the consummate skill of an eminent surgeon, he would have 
been cn crutches for many months more. 

The first use he made of his restored powers was to institute in- 
quiries for his friends the Surteeses. The search, however, was fruit- 
less. Daunt at length decided to consult a private inquiry agent, 
and put the case in the hands of Messrs. Hairgie and Horry, who 
were at this time the most prominent members of this curious 
modern profession. 

Only second to his solicitude for the Surteeses was his desire to 
find out something about Mrs. Waldo’s French maid. But lie 
would not give this job also to the private inquiry office. It would 
be well to see how Haggle and Horry did their work before he 
confided secret suspicions to them, which, if clumsily betrayed, 
might altogether spoil his game. 

But to watch F'anchelle it was necessary to keep on gcod terms 
tvilh the Waldos, to know where they were, their movements and 
goings on. With this object in view he had called at Carlton Gar- 
dens. Mrs. Waldro had received him very cordially, and without 
a word in reference to their last meeting, and the letters supposed 
to be lost. 

Next day came an invitation to dinner, which Sir Richard readily 
accepted. It was only a small friendly parly, Mrs. Waldc had said, 

and on arrival Daunt found but two other guests. 

4 


98 


PAST AND LOOSE. 


“Mr. Meggitt, 1 don’t think you know—” said Mis. Waldo, 
introducing the new cashier, who stood nearest her; ‘‘Mr, Meg- 
gitt, Sir Richard Daunt.” 

Daunt bowed slifl9y. 

“ Pardon me,” he said, ‘‘ 1 have alieady met Mr, Meggitt, and 
under peculiar circumstances, but we had not then the honor to bo 
acquainted.” 

Percy Meggitt changed color somewhat, aud in spite of his native 
eflronlery could only stammer out a few unintelligible words. 

But Daunt had already turned on his heel. Mrs. Waldo was in- 
troducing the second cuesi. 

“ This is the Marquis de Ojo Verde, a Spanish—” 

. ‘‘ Cuban, my dear madam, rather than Spanish; but 1 am a cos- 
mopolitan— so, 1 have heard, is Sir Richard Daunt.” 

Daunt bowed civily, and spoke a tew words of welcome in 
Spanish. The marquis replied in the sanic language, but with 
some hesitation. 

‘‘ Mine is not the pme Castilian, 1 tear,” he went on, in English, 
which certainly seemed to Daunt purer than his Spanish. “ We 
Ameiican Spaniards have got only a patois of our own in exchange 
tor the language ot Cervantes aud Lope de Vega. 

‘‘ The language of kings, as Charles V. called it,” replied Daunt; 
‘‘ it is a grand and sonorous tongue.” 

All this time Daunt was furtively examining the marquis, with 
whose name he was familiar already, lie had not torgotten the 
gambling transaction, as brought out at old Surtees’s trial, and he 
was curious to ascertain what manner of man it was who had vic- 
timized Bob. 

1 he Cuban nobleman was outwardly much the same as when he 
dined with Meggitt at the Junior Belgrave. He was dressed with 
fastidious nicety, but still in rather a florid style; he wore many 
jewels and a large star on his breast. But his face, although 
schooled to courtly smiles, bore the same sinister look; his red and 
white complexion, so brilliant as to seem artificial, brought out into 
sTrong relief, as usual, the fierce black eyebrows and rnirstachios, 
and the great prominent bold eyes. In spite of the elaborate polish 
ot his manner. Daunt disliked the man’s appearance much. 

‘‘ Nc wonder poor Bob lost his money,” said the young baronet 
to himself. ‘‘ This fellow is more like the croupier of a taro-table 
than a blue-blooded hidalgo ct Spain. 1 wonder how the Waldos 
came to know him?” 

But the announcement of dinner interrupted these conjectures. 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


90 


The niiircjuis, the highest in rank, took down Mrs. Waldo, Clara 
fell to Richard, Meggitt took Augusta Waldo, and Mr. Waldo his 
youugesi daughter and lavoiite, Relcna. Bob’s friend. 

It was a circular table, with no top or hotloni, therefore Diiunt 
found himself bitween Clara and Mrs. Waldo, with Meggitt im- 
mediately opposite him, having Augusta Waldo on one side and 
111 lena on the other. 

‘‘ Shall you go to oni Court this season, marquis?” askrd Mrs. 
W aldo. 

” Alas! 1 am not Men vu by my compatriots in power. 1 was 
on the wrong side in the last revolution, and 1 dare not show my- 
self at our Embassy.” 

” Tliey will know all about you though,” thought Daunt, ” and 
1 shall make it my business to a.sk, my friend.” 

” What a pity! we shall not meet at the State balls,” Augusta 
said, who was making a dead set at the marquis, and tins evening 
was especially decked out to captivate him in a very low dress. 

” But we shall elsewhere, divine mademoiselle,” replied the 
marquis, as he gazed with approbation upon his neighbor’s snowy 
ehoulilers. 

” Come, close up, gentlemen, close up!” cried old Waldo, heart- 
il}', when the ladies rose and left the table. ” Won't any one help 
me with this bottle ot ’34 port?” 

” It’s a grand vintage,” said the marquis, with the air of a con- 
noisseur. ‘‘ We foreigners are not supposed to understand wine, 
but 1 think 1 have a nice palate for port.” 

” Tour Spanish wines ate not to he spoken ot in the same day as 
those of Portugal,” said Meggitt, rather modestly. 

“Pardon mo, the Catalan wines have their merits. Now the 
Valdeperlas Ahejo is remarkable for its bouquet and flavor.” 

“ But the Valdepenas is a wine of La Mancha, not Catalonia,” 
said Daunt, with an air of knowledge. 

“ You are right; only 1 have some vineyards, south of Tarra- 
gon i, which produce a wine ot tlie Yaldepenas class.” 

“ Is that on the estate of which yon were speaking to mo at the 
bank tlie other day?” inquired Waldo, with an air of interest. 

“ Precisely; they are rich in vineyards, olive-groves, and corn.” 

“ 1 know the neighborhood of Tarragona well,” said Daunt. 

“ 'Whereabouts exactly do your lands lie?” 

“ To the south-west, half a dozen leagues from Agujero del Rey. 

If yvu are ever in those parts again, Sir Richard Daunt, remember 


100 


l-’ABT AND LOOSE. 


my poor house aucl all that it contains is yours—d la diaposieion 
dc itnied. ' ' 

“ Stay, stay,'’ laughingly interposed M^.^\■aldo; “ the bank will 
hai’o somethiim to say to that. You must not give away your prop- 
e rty il we advance — ” 

“ Hush, hush, dear friend; no business details; do not reveal 
our litile negotiations to Sir Kichard Daunt." 

“ You may rely upon my discretion, I’m sure,” said Daunt. 

‘‘Are your Spanish estates equal in fertility to those you have 
in It'ily'f” aked Meggitt, seeking to lead the conversation into a 
new line. 

” Yes, for the moment ceriaiuly yes. The latter still lie, like 
truth, at the bottom of the water. They are buried beneath Lake 
]\Iaiaaza, which so far refuses tc be properly drained.” 

“ Does Lake Watanza belong to you, marquis?” asked Daunt 
vvithsome interest. ‘‘The Lake Matanza in Jjower Lombardy, 1 
mean.” 

‘‘ Assuredly. It was brought into our family by an heiress of 
the Qualfairgias, and has since remained our property.” 

‘‘ It will repay draining, no doubt,” said Daunt. ” 1 have al- 
ways thought so.” 

‘‘ You know it thm?” asked IMr, Waldo, much interested; ” and 
you think well of the project?” 

‘‘If it is done on a sufficiently largo scale. 1 roile all through 
that country some years ago, and remember it very distinctly.” 

” Monsieui has evidently bet n a great traveler,” said the marquis. 
‘‘ Dc you know onr New World beyond the Atlantic? and my na- 
tive island of Cuba?” 

•‘ 1 have been in the Unitefl States, but never in Cuba. 1 prom- 
ise myself the pleasure some day soon.” 

‘‘ Any introductions 1 can give you will be heartily at your serv- 
ice.” 

” You are very good, 1 am sure,” said Daunt, with a grave bow. 
“Are j-^ou a land-holder, and—” 

“ Slave-owner, you would say? Alas, yeb. But what wottld 
you have? 1 iuherited them, and they alone can work the sugar- 
cane, which is the cliicf source of our w'ealth,” 

“ I suppose you are satisfied that nothing but slave labor would 
do jmur work well?” asked Daunt, 

“ It would kill ariy other class. That consoles me,” 

‘ But the Moiet law js actually in force iii Cuba,” continued the 
young baronet. , . . 


FAST AISTD LOOSE. 


lOl 


The marquis boked at Daunt l)lankl 3 ^ 

“ 1 have never licanl of it,” he said. 

” Not of the law passed h}' the Madrid Cortes in 1870 tor the 
gradual emancipation of Outran slaves?” 

" What do we caie for laws made at iMadrid? 'I'lie Spanish capi- 
tal is a long way from Havana.” 

“ lou are a ‘ peninsular,’ of course,” went on Daunt; ” at any 
rate by birth.” 

“ Oh, of course,” lenlied the marquis, with the air of a man 
rather on his guard. 

” Is the feeling still very strong between creoles and peninsu- 
lares?” 

” 1 can not say; it is long since 1 paid close attention to our in- 
sular politics. They are very, what you c.all, pettifogging to a 
man of the world,” replied the marquis, sliorlly. Then, turning 
to Mr. Waldo, he added, ‘‘ Your English custom is very impolite. 
We have left the ladies now for more than half an hour.” 

Tlie host could not mistake this challenge; he rose from the fa- 
ble, saying, ” We’ll lake our coffee in the drawing-room,” and led 
the way upstairs. 

As they went up. Daunt found himself thinking a goo 1 deal 
about this Cuban gentleman, who knew nothing of the great law 
which threatened his property, and still less of the bitter animosity 
which subsisted between the two while races cf his native isle. 
The Marquis ile Ojo Verde seemed equally abroad, too, as regards 
the vine^'ards of his ancestral Spauisli home. 

” Is he real, or only a sham? I’ll go straight to the Spanish 
Emlrassy to-morrow morning. Ponce de Leon will tell me all he 
knows. 1 dare swear the marquis rooked Bob Surtees, and 1 don't 
half believe in all this fabulous wealth.” 

But it was evident that the marquis was quite at home in Carlton 
Cciitdcns. He sunk at once into an easy chair, while Augusta 
Waldo on one side handed him a silver cigarette box, and Clara on 
the other brought him a light. 

” Yes, yes.” Augusta said; ‘‘you may smoke. Mayn’t he, 
mamma?” 

‘‘ Oh, it madamc and these ladies permit,” said the marquis, ” 1 
*- confess I am a slave— 1, a slave owner, am myself a slave -to the 
pernicious weed.” 

Mrs. Waldo had been lalking rordmlly. alTcclionatcly even, wiih 
the new cashier, congralul.iiiii'j him on Ins advancement, ami 


10^ 


17AST AND LOOSE. 


sayin*^ she had heard the most excellent account ot him. But then 
she dismissed him, saying she was neglecting Sir Richard Daunt. 

‘ I can not forgive myself for having troubled you. Sir Richiud, 
about-" she spoke in a lower voice, ‘’about those letters.” 

” Don’t mention it. 1 had really almost forgotten it. Did you 
find them?” 

” Oh, yes, and in looking them over again I saw that I had (luH 
exaggerated their importance. By tlie way, what has become i 
Miss Surtees f” 

” 1 liave not the least idea.” 

” Some one told me, 1 think, that she had gone into some shop — 
behind the counter, you know. But 1 am really not certain. I 
thought you might know.” 

” If she has taken a situation in a shop it is in obedience to an 
impulse which does her the highest credit.” 

‘‘1 thought it more probable that she was obliged to earn her 
bread. A convict’s daughter, with a worthless brother—” 

“Miss Surtees is a noble girl,” said Daunt, sternly, ” and for 
her brother 1 have a strong personal regard. As for poor old Mr. 
Surtees, we may yet find that there has been some terrible mistake.” 

1 can not share your feeling. Sir Richard Daunt. But do not 
let tus quarrel over these wretched people.” 

It.was not Daunt’s wish, either, to break with the Waldos, and, 
although he soon alterward took his leave, he shook hands wiih 
Mrs. Waldo cordially as he said good-night. 

As he passed down into the hall he was conscious that some one 
was close behind him on the stairs. On reaching the last landing 
he heard a side-door open, aud the rustle of a dress; then the words, 
spoken low but distinctly — 

Ijeon, ilfaut queje teparle demain." 

And, turning sharp round. Daunt saw that it was Fanchette ad- 
dressing the Cuban. 

” Tais toi imbecile” replied the marquis, promptly, pointing to 
Daunt, and Fanchette as rapidly w’ithdrew. 

In the hall the two men met and looked at each other. Sudden- 
ly the marquis burst out in a loud laugh. 

” Do not betray me to Hurt excellent and respectable dame. Mrs. 
■Waldo.” he said. ” It is a simple amourette. Quoit I am hu- 
man, and soul) ret te.<t were always Id my taste.” 

iiut their meeting, and the brief words spoken, the employment 
of the Ifimiliar ” tu” on botii sidts, gave Daunt food for still i 
deeper thought when he re viewed the evmits of the evening. 


PAST ANt) LOOSE. 


103 


CHAPTEU XVll. 

HAGGIE AND HORRY, 

The Albany, as every Londoner knows, has two issues, one into 
Piccadilly, the other into Burlington Gardens. At both exits are 
othcials who exercise a general surveillance upon all who pass in 
or out. But on the morning after the dinner party at the Waldos’ 
a second unolBcial watch wiis kept at both these points. 

In Burlington Gardens the watcher was a decent-looking man, 
with a black bag such as shoe-makers’ journeymen or assistants 
usf! when taking home their work. II(! was a burly man with 
longish black whiskers and beard, and he wore a soft wide-awake 
over his eyes. Froni the way he slunk about, and the furtive 
glances he cast up and down the street, he seemed anxious to avoid 
attention. Ko one, however, noticed him much. The policeman 
of the beat, who came past once or twice, snifled at him a little 
suspiciously, but the man boldly explaineci his loitering about. 

“ The guv’nor ’as sent these boots home to a swell in Saville Row, 
but 1 ain't to part without the spondulics. Swell says he'll be out 
directly to go with me to the bank. Told me to wait, so I’m a 
waiting.” 

“ Right you are,” said the bobby, who passed twice again, but 
only winked portentously. 

l.n crowded Piccadilly the watcher was of another stamp. He 
w'as one of those nondescripts—half loafer, half rough — who hang 
about all the great thoroughfares looking out for a job with bag- 
gage, or, it chance favored, a soap at property left unprotected in 
some passing carriage — an aged man, with snow-white hair, in 
seedy clothes, a battered t ill hat, boots that bulged, and altogether 
an out-at-elbows air. He stood generally with the waterman on the 
cat-rank, and helped him with od I jobs; now lifting the iron skid 
1)enea!h a hansom as the driver swung himself into his seat, or 
dragging oft the horse-cloths, or bringing a bucket of water to a 
new arrival on the stand. But he never lost sight of the little court- 
yariJ into which the Albany passage opens, and whenever he had 
done a job for the waterman he went up to the pavement on the 
Royal Academy side, to gaze keenly up and down lest his (piarry 
shouhl have escaped him. 

He was just in the act of holding a hansom horse -a brute with 


104 


FAST AND LOOSFL 

a patent Wl in its mouth —as its diivei settled himselt tor the start, 
when he saw an uichiii niakin;' toward iiim from tlie Albany Gate. 
He let go his hold of the horse so suddenly that the brute started 
oS at scf re, and the diiver— shouting “ you blooming idiot ” — was 
nearly thiown from his perch. What did the watcher cate? Ho 
snatclied a scrap of paper from the hands of the boy and read: — 

“ Slatted this side; now in Bank of England. If he goes up 
Bond Street I’ll follow; you watch the Arcade and Bond Street, 
Piccadilly end.” 

Accordingly he set oft at a rapid, although shambling, pace 
down Piccadilly, westward; paused a moment at the foot ot the 
Burlington Arcade, and looked on ahead as far as the haltet’s at 
the coiner of Bond Street. 

‘‘There he goes.” 

It was Sir Bichurd Daunt, in fiock coat and hat, with his um- 
brella under his arm, his hands behind his back, and his head 
erect, walking along, not like a saunteiiug idler, but with the brisk 
step of a man having an object in view. 

He passed down Piccadilly, our friend at his heels; turned into 
the park at the corner, where bis putsutr, keeping outside the 
railings, but always on the watch, suflered him to go alone. But 
at Albert Gate, seeing that Daunt still slayed in the park, the other 
also entered it, and continued to follow, always at a respeciable 
distance behind. 

Sir Richard Daunt kept steadily on, past the Knightsbritige Bar- 
racks, and always in the park, till he had left the Albert Memorial 
on the light, when he turned into Queen’s Gate, and made down 
the long, straight, and spacious toad which bears the same name. 

”1 could nave sworn it,” muttered the <>ld man, behind; ” al- 
ihoiisrh he can’t know much, he means mischief, and is trying lo 
know more. He’s heading straight for Queen's Gate Place -just 
what 1 expected. Lucky 1 put on the ‘ nark ’ (watch).” 

Sir Richard Daunt did, as his pursuer expected, turn into 
Queen’s G.ate Place. More, he stopped at the Spanish Legation, 
rang the bell, and went in. 

He was in search ot information about the Marquis de Ojo 
Verde, and it was the marquis liim'clt, wdio, disguised as an old 
man, w'as at bis heels. 

Daunt remained at the Legation about half an hour. On coming 
out, he w’alked leisurely back into Queen’s Gate, and hailed the 
first passing hansom. 

The marquis did the same, nbhough his appear.ance was eo much 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


105 


agsjinst I lie cliuuccs of his paying the fare that cabby insisted upon 
having his money beforehand. 

“ There’s your money,” said the marquis, curlly. ” Ualf-a- 
Clown more if you follow that hansom ahead and run the gentry 
cove down. Scotland Yard. Are you Dy?” 

The cabby winked, and, flicking up his horse, gave chase. 

Daunt’s hansom turned down the Cromwell Koad and went as 
far as the Brompton Road, then by'^ (Jrove Place and Pout Stieet to T 
Belgrave Street, and so to the Vauxhall Bridge Koad. 

‘‘ What the devil is he up to now?” tlie marquis asked himself, 
as the hansom dashed down the Vauxliali Biidge Road into Roches- 
ter Row, and pulled up at the entrance to Vincent Square, 

However there was no time to waste on conjecture. Jumping 
out of his cab, which he dismissed, the marquis followed Sir Rich- 
ard on foot. 

The baronet stopped at a cotner-house, and went in. It was at 
'Haggieand Horry’s. 

‘‘ An inquiry office. Aha!” said the marquis, ” nov; he is going 
to put the ‘ nark ' on me. How shall 1 circumvent him? Ilaggie 
and Iloriy; do I know anything about them? I’ve heard of them, 

I think, before.” 

The Cuban nobleman look tvAm or three turns up and down the 
pavement, then boldly went to ttie inquiry oQlce and rang ihebell. 

” Ilaggie and Horry?” he asked briefly of the clerk, who looked 
Suspiciously at the disre[)utab>e old man. 

” What do you want with them?” he asked, contemptuously. 

” Business. Don’t judge by appearances, my dear young friend. 
They ’re apt to mislead. Whom can 1 see?” 

‘‘Do you want a principal?” 

‘‘ Of course. Who melse?” 

' ‘‘ Mr. Horry’s engaged with a gentleman ’’—much emphasis on 
the word — ‘‘ who’s just called. But Mr. Haggle’s in,” 

‘‘ That will do. I’ll see him.” 

‘‘ Whom shall 1 say?” asked the clerk, still inclined to be inso- 
lent. 

‘‘ Captain Pirkeytoodle, from the Straits of Ballampajaug. 
Come, stir yourself, or I’ll make you jump.” 

Leaving the marquis for a moment, w'aitmg to see Mr, Ilaggie, 
let us return to Sir Richard Daunt, who was interviewing the other 
partner, Mr. Horry, 

Mr. iforry vvas an old buck w'ho still wished to pass as a juve- 
ilile. His bait: was tliick, and. Icing of tho pale reddish hue which 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


IOC 

somolitiies never turns, was not 3 'et gra}'. lie was proud of his figure, 
auci showed it by wealing a dark green cutaway coat, opening low 
and tigiitly buttoned in at the waist. In the opening was a gor- 
geous scarf, a cataract of spotted satin, reddish-purple in color, 
and fastened hy an enormous cairngorm pin, Ilis manners were 
in keeping with his ccstume— elaborate, and he spoke in unctuous 
terms. 

“ 1 am sorry, deeply sorry,” hegan the private inquiry agent, 
‘‘ to be unable as j'et to give you news of Mr. Surtees; but we 
have reason to believe we are on his track.” 

“Very w'ell, only lei me hear without delay the moment you 
know anything. But to-day I have something else to say to you — 
another job, in fact.” Sir Richard Daunt spoke sharply. “ Have 
you time?” 

“ To le sure. Sir Richard, to be sure. Delighted to be of serv- 
ice.” 

“ 1 want a person watched— followed — tracked down.” 

“ Exactly: 1 quite understand. It is just in our line. Is she — 
the lady, 1 mean— Lady— ” 

“Pshaw! It’s a man.” 

“ Ah! the other party. The Co, in fact. Very w’ell. Very well.” 

“ A man,” went on Sir Richard; “ whem 1 believe to be an im- 
postor, or worse, who is mixed up in a base intrigue, a villainous 
plot. But that does not matter. What presses is that you should 
find out all about this man as speedily as possible.” 

“ His name?” 

“ He calls himself the ^Marquis de Ojo Verde, a Cuban marquis 
of old Spanish descent, but 1 can not believe that there is any such 
title in Cuba or Spain. He is not known at the Spanish Legation. 
I have just come from there.” 

“ Can you give me his address, and his personaal description?” 

“ He is u tall, forhidding-looking man of foreign apq^eaiancc, 
much given to jewelr}' and tine clotlies,” 

“ Allow me; one moment; 1 must make a few notes;” and Mr. 
Horry with a massive gold pencil wrote down the signalement of 
the marquis from Sir Richard Daunt ’s lips. “ And you can not 
as yet give us his lordship’s address?” he said, when he had 
finished writing. 

“ Not at present; but 1 think if you put a watch at once upon 
another person— a French maid residing at 29 Carlton Cardens, she 
is almost certain to meet this fellow in the course ct to-day oj this 
eveoiug. Her name is Fauchette Duaioqlin,” 


Fast and loose. 


107 


“Describe her, toe, it you please,’’ said Mr. Horry; aud Sir 
Richard gave a minule accouut of the appearance of Fauchette. 

“ Where sball we communieate with you, Sir Richard? Will 
30 U call, or shall we wrileV” 

“ The Albany will always find me. Please use all possible dis- 
patch. Good-bye." 

3Ieatnvhile Mr. Haggle, the other partner, had been closeted wiih 
the marquis. 

Mr. Haggie was a man of a dillerent stamp to Mr. Horry, much 
older, and much less careful of his personal appearance. His long 
ncclt and long lees ending in great boots, like claws, together 
with his way of pushinrr his head forward in an eauer inquiring 
altitude, and the two quill-pens invariably stuck one behind each 
ear, gave him the look of a “ secretary bird," whose rapid, fussy 
movements to and fro he seemed to reproduce. The resemblance 
was heightened by the sart colored clothes he generally wore, much 
of the same tone as the pepper-and-salt ijlumagc of this rapacious 
bird. 

His manner was hasty. He spoke very quicidy and almost al- 
ways in inlerrogutives. 

“ Well, well, what is it? Who are you? What do you want?” 
was his greeting of his visitor. 

“ To give you a comrni«siou if you arc prepared to undertake it.” 

“ You, you, you?” replied Mr. Haggie, «ying the ragged man 
in fioiit of him. 

“ This is merely a disguise,” replied the other coolly. “ 1 as- 
sume it in order to get to you unobserved.” 

“ Should like to know who you are. Tell mo, will you?” 

“ 1 am a torcigner by birth, a Cuban gentleman of high rank. 
j\Iy^ name is Xavier Sollaticrra, Marques de. Ojo Verde, and lure is 
fitly pounds on account. Are you satisfied now?” 

” Certainly; that is— if you can satisfy us that j'ou .are the porsou 
y( u describe,” said Mr. Haggie, still rather doubtful. 

” If it is necessary, of course 1 shall do so. But 1 should have 
tho\igiit I bat by prepayment 1 could command your services in 
anything. ” 

“Hot at all, marquis; not at all. There are many pitfalls and 
snares in our profession, and the jtOiice aie always on the watch. 
They are not fond of us; we succeed oflencr than they do, and 
we should get no mercy from them if they caught us in anylbiug 
shady or underhand.” 


108 


FAST AND loose. 


“ Do you dare to imjily that 1 would suggest anything ot the 
kind?’’ said the marquis, indignantly. 

■ “ it is bitter to be cautious and on the sate side, >Vhat is it you 
want us to do?” 

“ Listen, then. 1 have reason to believe that 1 am being fol- 
lowed. 1 wish to set up a counter watch — a centre police, as the 
French call it. Will you undertake the job?” 

“ Who is watching you, and why?” 

“ A certain Sir Richard Daunt : for reasons of his cwn.” 

” Do you know those reasons?” 

IS ot positively ; but 1 suspect they are ot a delicate nature— 
your English ladies are so impressionable. 1 have had my suc- 
cesses.” The suggestion had a ludicrous effect coming trom this 
disreputable looking old man. 

‘‘ In tact, Sir Richard Daunt is jealous of your attentions to seme 
friend of his? Is that what you would imply?” asked Mr. ITaggie. 

” Precisely; and he wishes, in order to ascertain whether we 
meet, to put a spy on me.” 

“ And you wish us to put a spy on his spy. Is that it?” 

“ And on him. 1 want to know what he is doing generally, but 
more particularly with regard ic me.” 

‘‘ 1 understand; but 1 am sorry to say, marquis, we must decline 
the commission.” 

“What! Impossible! 1 insist— ” 

Mr. Flaggie waved his hand rather contemptuously. 

” We have good grounds lor refusing. Sir Richard Daunt — ” 

“ Is already a client of yours. Is that what you mean?” 

Mr. Haggle started nervously. 

‘‘ How do 3'ou know thiU?” he said quickly. 

I know a good many things, Mr. Haggie. For instance, I 
know that Sir Richard is at this moment in this house, in the 
offleo ot your partner, Mr. Horry.” 

Mr. Haggie jumped up, and went across the room to where there 
was a speaking-tube. He whistled through it, spoke a tew words, 
then put the cup to iris ear and listened, 

‘‘ Well,” asked the marquis, in a mocking tone, “am I right? 
Rut don’t stop there. Ask y'our partner what Daunt’s business is 
tn dav— whether he has not come to speak about me.” 

Mr. Haggie did as requested, and presently, returning to his 
seat, .said, “You are perfectly right in your ronjeclures. Sir 
Richard Daunt is here, and you are the subject of his couvena- 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


109 


tion with Mr Horry. But lliis makes it all the more impossible 
for us to undertake your business.” 

” Pill don me, 1 know ol no people so capable in your line; and 
I am so convinced of this that 1 can not consent to forego the 
benefit of your assistance,” said the marquis, in a mild voice, but 
behind it was just a tinge of menace, at which quick-witted Mr, 
Haggle looked surprised. 

But he said bravely enough, ” We only undertake what suits us. 
Your business does not. It is needless to press it.” 

‘‘ But J insist; you must undertake it,” 

” Who ate you that dare to come ami browbeat me in my own 
place? I’ll have nothing more to say to you. So good-day.” 

” Softly, softly. Wail one moment. I have a few more words 
»o say. Did you ever hear of , limps, the lawyers, of Newcastle?” 

” N\ hat about them? What do you know of them?” asked 
Haggle in a quick, nervous manner. 

” There were two of them, brothers, in a large way of business, 

1 believe; but they were charged with falsifying accounts and 
making away with their clients’ securities. Both brothers were 
sliuck off the rolls, but one escaped to Spain, while the other was 
caught, and did his ‘ bit,’ seven years at Portland. A word to the 
police at Newcastle would bring the same punishment on Jabez, 
the other brother.” 

” He died in Saragossa— years ago; so T’ve heard.” 

“ You heard wrong then. He is alive and in London, and 1 can 
put my hand on him at any lime, in spite of his disguise,” 

There was a pause. The two men looked at each other keenly 
without speaking. 

“ 1 could tell you something, too, about a friend of yours who 
was once a medical student, and afterward employed in a baby- 
farming business on a large scale,” went on the marquis. ” Shall 1?’ - 
” 1 see we shall have to do what you wish,” said Jlr. Haggle, 
blandly. ” You have strong cards in your hands.” 

‘‘ Yes, and 1 can play them, 1 mean to win the trick. You 
must not only watch this Daunt for me, bui you must tell him Just 
whal 1 choose about me.” 

I must consult my partner first. Y’ou w'ill allow me to do that, 

1 suppose?” 

” Yes; but it must be in here. AVhistle for him to come up when 
lie is free. I’ll have no tricks.” 

By and by Mr. Horry came in, splendid as ever. The appear- 


110 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


ance of liis partner’s visitor ralber surprised him at firtl, but when 
lonualiy introduced Horry made the marquis a lew bow. 

“ 1 uudorsland— 1 understand— wbat is it, my dear Kaggie?” 

“ A word in your private ear.” 

And the partners retired into a corner Ic talk, while the marquis 
kept his eye on them carefully. The colloquy was long und 
anxious. Horry’s pale lace when it was over was heightened by 
the crimson scarf he wore, and Haggie was more restless in manner 
than ever. 

” Well?” asUed the marquis, coldly. 

*' It shall he as you wish, tny lord,” said Mr. Horry, blandly; 
‘‘ you shall know all that we are doing, and in return we may ex- 
pect—” 

‘ Silence; absolute discretion.” 

‘‘ Where shall we communicate with you? Hot at your club?” 

‘‘No. You can write there to make an appointment. 1 will 
meet you at aft address 1 shall name,” 

‘‘ Perfectly. We are at your orders. Can we offer you any re- 
freshments? No? 'I hen good day. ” 

The moment the door was closed, one partner said to the other— 

‘‘ Who is he? Can you make out? ’ 

‘‘ 1 have been puzzling my head ever since 1 came into the 
room,” said Mr. tlorry. ‘‘ 1 seem to know his voice too.” 

‘‘ He reminded me of Jack Sinoult, who was in that big swindle 
with the long firms,” suggested Haggie, 

‘‘ Too tall, and 1 should say, too old; but, of course, this chap 
had a wig. I shcnld say it was Spanish Sam. alias Greaser.” 

‘‘ Alias the marquis and ever so many mote names. If 1 didn’t 
know Sam was ‘ at the boat ’ ” (penal servitude)-” I’d say so too.” 

“ It’s Spanish Sam. The more 1 think of it the more certain 1 
am.” 


CHAPTER XVlll. 

A MEETING. 

On the Saturday following Sit Richard Haunt’s last visit to Hag-> 
gie and Horry, Josephine leltBond Street about half-past two. She 
hailed a passing ” Royal Blue ” bus, but it was full; so she walked 
on down the street, intending to take another m Piccadilly. But 
none oveftook her and, entering Piccadilly, she walked as fast as 
Bhe could tow'ard the Green Park. 

. lUrougli the Iron gui«.w(vy. ^he took the path which led 


FAST A XI) LOOSE. 


Ill 


slraitrhl to RiicUinubain Palace as L(r nearest way Ik'hic, and was 
already halt-way across the park when she heard a voice, weak 
and fceole tn m want ot breath, gasp out just behind lua : 

“"Wind a pace you.do go! 1 never saw such a mover. Do 
please, wait a little, do.” 

Josejrhine looked round and saw Lord VVingspur. 

She halted for a uioineut, as if relenting, hut she was only look- 
ing lound for a protector, a policeman — anybody. 

Meanwhile, the old beau, smart and swaggering, as usual, with 
his flosver in his button-hole, and his hat on one side, came up along- 
side her. 

“ It is quite cruel of you to run away like that; and I had so 
much to say to you. We haven’t met since, since — ” 

lie had evidentl}' quite forgotten when and where. 

” How dare you speak to me? 1 don’t know you,” cried Joseph- 
ine, terrified as she again moved on. 

But Lord Wingspur managed now to keep by her side, and to 
ply her with remarks. 

‘‘ How naught}' of you, my dear, to say you do r;ot know me. 
Why, we ate quite old friends. Isn’t it a lovely day for a walk, 
or tor Greenwich or Kichmoud? IVill you come down and dine 
there? Kow, conre, let’s sit down, and we’ll make it all up, and 
then we’ll go to Hancock’s or Streeler’s, or wherever you like, and 
choose a nice bit of jewelry. What do you prefer — diamonds, or 
rubies, or pearls?” 

” Oh, this is loo horrible!” cried Josephine, again breaking 
away. “ What shall 1 do? Is there no one to help me — no one to 
protect me from this hideous old man?” 

She looked round and saw another figure, that of a gentleman, 
approaching rapidly from the direction of Piccadilly, and rushed 
toward him. 

” Oh, sir !” she began. ' ‘ 1 implore you as a gentleman, a man 
of honor and proper fteling, 1 implore you to—” 

” Josephine!” cried the other. “ 1 was sure 1 could not he mis- 
taken. Why, what has happened? What are you doing here?” 

“Can it be possible! Richard! Oh, how thankful 1 feel!” 
said Josephine, breaking at once into a torrent of tears. 

” Do not distress yourself, dearest; 1 will soon pul this all 
right,” replied Sir Richard Daunt, as he 'W’cnt up to lire old ireer. 

“Lord Wingspur,” ho said, sternly, ‘‘1 need not ask for any 
explanation. The situalion explains itself. But 1 must insist, first, 


113 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


upon aa apology to JVliss burices; and next, that you will take 
yourselt oil.” 

“ Miss Surtees! My dear fellow, 1 hadn’t the slightest idea she 
was a friend ot j’ours. 1 won’t spoil sport, begad! By-bye, Daunt; 
you’re in luck. By-bye!” and with that, giving his hat a still more 
knowing ” cock ” on one side, the old rou^ strutted ofl. 

Daunt now led Josephine to a seat, and for an hour or more the 
two lovers sat there on that bench in the park exchanging con- 
fidences, and in sweet converse, which seemed to have no end, 

” So Bob has gone on the stage,” said Daunt, as they sti oiled 
rjuietly along the Buckingham Palace Road, Pimlico. ‘‘Bravo, 
Bob! when shall 1 see him*/” 

‘‘ lie is no doubt at home now.” 

‘‘ We shall find him then,” said Sir Richard. 

‘‘ Are you coming our way?” asked Josephine, ‘‘ Have you for- 
gotten our compact?” 

‘‘ Most certainly 1 am coming, whether you forbid me or not. 
And 1 do not mean to allow you loo ver^' far out of my sight 
again. There shall be no more separation. 1 have felt it too much 
this time.” 

‘‘ So have 1, Richard, believe me, ” said Josephine, in a Jew voice. 
‘‘ But do not misunderstand me. 1 can not go back from what 1 
have said. J\Iy father must be released, his character must bo 
cleared, before — ” 

‘‘ You are mine? 1 know. Haven’t 1 agreed to thai already? But 
w’hy make ourselves mr re miserable than can be helped meanwhile? 
Let us see each other often. It will be a comfort and support to 
U3 both. Besides, 1 shall want to tell j’ou what 1 am doing, to 
report progress, and to consult you and Bob.” 

‘‘ 1 can not say no, Richard. 1 have hungered too much for you 
all this time. But here we are at home.” 

Bob was having a chop, reading as he cat. 

‘‘ At last I’ve found you out. Bob. How closely you’ve been 
hidden!” 

*' I haven’t. You might have seen me any night at the Royal 
Roscius. I’m Mr. Francis on the bills.” 

*■ Tlie great success ot the season, so 1 hear.” 

The talk flowed on pleasantly and cheerfully, but at last Bob 
said; 

‘‘ Time’s up. 1 shall only just have time to walk back to the 
theater.” 

‘‘ I’ll go with you,” said Daunt. ” But, before we part, let us 


FAST AXF LOOSE. 


113 


arrange about to-morrow. lias either ot you engagements? Ko; 
then we’ll have a long clay together. I’ll drive you clown to 
Riehmoucl; we’ll lunch somewhere, ar.d then, go on the river. 
Is It agreed?” 

Aller a tender leave-taking with Josephine, Daunt joined Boh 
in the street. 

Look here, Bob,” he said .abruptly. “1 think your tiien.I 
Helena — you see her sometimes, 1 suppose? Ah, 1 thought so, at 
the Bon.ast res’ : well, 1 think she might T )0 of great use to us just 
now.” 

*• now so?” asked Bob. 

“ 1 want to know more about this French maid of Mrs. Waldo’s: 
where she came from; what sort ot person she is; what company 
she keeps; in sheut, all about her.” 

“ Helena couldn’t find out much.” 

‘‘But her own maid might. And 1 have my suspicions about 
Fanchette. Remember, it came out at the trial that she was the 
only person who could have got at old Waldo’s strong-room key ?” 

‘‘ But nothing of the kind was proved. Besides, what could she 
do with the key?” 

” Give it, or an impression of it in wax, to some one else who 
h.ad access to the place where the securities were kept, and who 
C5uld so abstract the bonds — commit the crime in fact for which 
your father is suffering.” 

‘‘ To whom would Fanchette be likely to give the key? What 
connection had she with any one at the bank?” 

” That has been my clifilcully in thinking the matter out. For a 
long ti ne 1 could not trace any connection between her and the 
person 1 have all along suspected.” 

‘‘ An t that is — ” 

‘‘ Meggitt, w'ho is now the cashier.” 

‘‘ Percy Meggitt! Is it possible that you believe him to bo base 
enough to have woven such an infamous plot?” 

“ 1 alway's thought the man a cad, but not a villain till lately.” 

” But what benefit would my father’s disgrace and downfall 
bring to Meggitt?” 

‘‘ flis promotion, in the first place. Ho expected to succeed 
your father, and, as a matter of tact, has don^ so.” 

‘‘ That, after all, would hardly bo enough to tempt a man to 
commit such a dastardly crime. A few hundreds a year is all the 
difference between the pay of cashier and assistant-cashier.” 

‘‘ That was ancthei great difiiculty. 1 can only suppose thal ho 


114 


PAST AKD LOOSE. 


has some much bigger ulterior game in hand, and that he wanted 
your father out of the way so as to have a clear course before 
him.” 

” Have you any idea what his game is?” 

‘‘ Not j'ct. I am still in the dark, w'aiting patiently for evidence 
lor f cts and information as they turn up. but 1 have hud a watch 
^t upon his accomplice.” 

” An accomplice! Whom do you mean?” 

” The man calling himself the IMarquis Ojo de Verde, the fellow 
wdio swindled you at cards.” 

” Ojo Verde! Is he really a leg, do you think?” 

“He looks it,” said Daunt; “but there’s hardly sufficient 
proof,” he added, with a laugh. ” Nor have 1 any proof as yet 
that he is very thick with Meggitt. But that 1 still hope to get at. 
But he knows Fanchette intimately. Of that 1 have no doubt.” 

”1 know that, too,” said Bob, and he described what he had 
seen at the cate restaurant at Kilburn. 

” That’s corroborative. 1 was certain she could not tutoyer the 
marquis and call him by his Christian name unless they were very 
closely allied.” 

‘‘ Who is this rrraiquis, dc you suppose?” asked Bob, inno- 
cently. 

“Ah! that’s the very first thing 1 want to know. 1 can not act 
freely til! 1 do.” 

Next morning Daunt drove Josephine and her brother to Rich- 
mond in his mail phaeton. 

They only jiaused a few minutes at the Star and Garter Hotel. 
Daunt secured a private dining-room, then all three w^ent down the 
slope to the river-side, and it was quite late in the afternoon before 
they returned to the hotel. 

By this time all the private rooms were engaged evidently, and 
111 that next door to Daunt and the Burteeses there was a large and 
noisy party. Their voices, raised high, and shouts of laughter, 
were heard plainly through the partition. 

*' Buiely,” said Bob, “ 1 can’t be wrong. That’s Mrs. Bonastre. 
I’d know her voice among a thousand. 1 wonder whom they’re 
with?” 

“ Some other people whom 1 think we know,” said Daunt, as 
several figures passed out on to the balcony from the neighboring 
room. 

There were Mrs. Waldo and her daughters and Horace Wing- 
spur, and oire or two more. 


PAST AXD LOOSE. 


115 


“Oh, this is too enchanting I’’ cried Clara Waldo. “ AVhat a 
lovflv' siiot!” 

“ How truly good of you, marquis, to make up this parly for 
us.’’ added Augusta, casting languishing eyes at the Cuban, who 
looked his best in a light-gray frock coat and a very shiny hat. 

“ If was ilr. Meggitt’s idea,” interposed Mrs. Waldo. “You 
must cive him some credit.” 

“ We won’t quarrel over that, ladies,” said the cashier. “ The 
kindness is on youi side in honoring us with your company.” 

“ But don’t let’s stick up here cn the balcony,” put in Mrs. 
Bonastre, with her gay voice. “ It’s far more fun down in the 
garden.” 

“ By all means; we’ll go into the garden,” said Mrs, Waldo, as 
she sailed back into the dining-room, 

‘We will join 3*011, cMre madame, in a few moments,” said the 
marquis. “ Mr. Meggitt and 1 have a few orders to give about the 
coming feast.” 

The two men remained on the balcony engaged in earnest con- 
veisaiiou. 

Presently the} came away, and followed the others down into 
the garden. Daunt caught a word 01 two of their conversation as 
they passed in front of him, and what he heard justified him, he 
thought, in stepping out on the balcony and trying to hear more. 

“It won’t be ea.s3* to talk her over, 1 tell you; you don’t know 
F.inchctle,” the marquis had said, as he first came out. 

“ It’s a mere matter of money, 1 expect,” said Meggitt. 

“ Mo, it’s not. Fanchette’s mercenary, of course, so aie all of 
hei sex and clas.s and country, but money won’t pacify her now. 
She’s mad with jealousy and spite. She hates to see me herr, car- 
r3*ing on with the daugliter of the house, while she’s the servant 
onlv of that old cat, the mother.” 

“ She’d better leave the Waldos then.” 

“If she does she’ll be always in my way, and it might be very 
awkward.” 

“ What, then, do 3*011 propose?” 

“ We must humor her, that's certain. Her great desire, she says, 
is to !e;u'e this country, wl ich she detests, and the drudgery, which 
sh ■ hales still woise. W'di, she shall go; we’ll help her.” 

“ And it that fails to keep her cjuiet?” 

“ 1 shall tiy oihti means Mo woman shall make a foul of me, 

01 interfere with my game.” 


IIG 


PAST AND LOOSP. 


And that was all. Daunt did not wish to be caught listening, 
and what he had now heard neail}' sufficed. 

It proved the complicity of Meggill; it showed that Fauchette, 
(•ne ot his contederates, was dissatisfied; it opened a chance of 
detaching her from the others, or at least extracting some damna- 
tiiry evidence from her. 

1 ids little incident had put Sir Richard in great good humor. 
Ibih, too, who had seen Helena, was also in high glee, and Joseph- 
ine was in excellent spirits. 

All three made merry over their dinner, which they had early, 
so as to enjoy the drive home by daylight. 

The only contretemps, the only blot on the day’s enjoyment, oc- 
curred at the moment of theii departure from Richmond. 

Daunt’s phaeton, with his pair ot high stepping seventeen-hand 
roans, stood at the door. He had helped Josephine into her seal, 
and was taking u[» the reins preparatory to jumping up beside her, 
when Mrs. Waldo, with the marquis, and followed by all her gang, 
came out at the hall door, tent seemingly on a walk in the park. 

“ Ah, tiens, it is that excellent Sir Daunt,” said the marquis. 
‘‘ Do you not see him, madarae?” 

‘‘ 1 do not choose to see everything, marquis,” replied Mrs. 
Waldo, coldly. 

” But what a beautiful person is with him! Angelic face, ma 
foi ! He has surely good taste.” 

” That may he questioned, marquis,” went on Mrs. Waldo, bit- 
terly adding, in a very loud voice, ‘‘It is not good taste, accord- 
ing to our ideas, to afficJier one’s self in public places with such per- 
sons, She is a saleswoman at some shop.” 

‘‘It is a tendresse alors ! Mes compliments, Sir Daunt,” cried 
the marquis, gayly, as he kissed his hand to Sir Richard. 

But Mis. Waldo’s words had been heard, and they stabbed 
Josephine to the quick. Her only retaliation was one glance of 
piouil passionate contempt as they drove aw'ay. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

CLEWS. 

A FEW days later Mrs Waldo was in the depths of despair. 
Everything had gone wrong with her. In the first place, her 
Fieuch maid and factotum threatened to leave her; next, her dress- 
maker insisted on having a check, and money was very tight with 
Mrs, Waldo just then. 


FAST AKD LOOSE. 


117 


But the worst blow came at the end of the day thus laibittcred 
by many worries. She get a letter by the night post, the reading 
ot which agitated her terribly. 

“ The minx!” she said, " the insolent, unforgiving minx! What 
tempted me, fool that 1 was, to speak as I did yesterday, when 1 
knew she had me still in her power? What shall I do? Must I 
yield to her termsl” 

Again she read the letter. It was as follows: 

, “ The writer hokis certain letters of yours, which, if given to 
! Mr. Waldc or made public, would ruin you forever. Will you 
1 buy them, and silence? 

i " Tiieir price is one thousand pounds. If you agree, send some 
! .'nan on the third day from this to the garden on the Embankment 
I near Charing Cross at one o’clock. Let your messenger wear a 
' bouquet of lilies of the vaheyand bluebells, and bring the money 
; in notes. When counted, the letters (scveuleeu in number) will be 
I given up. 

j “ Your messenger must be alone, or no one will speak to him. 

I “X." 

^ “ A thousand pounds! Where am 1 to got a theusand pounds? 

I J ust now, too, when people are pressing me on every side tor cash, 

I and f promised to help Horace over his settling for Punchestown. 

' But I must have it, by hook or crook. At the worst 1 will ask 
^ Ouesimus. lie caa not refuse. Ths minx, the artful wretch. I 
could slay her.” 

She went in person to Wimbledon riext day, and made an elo- 
quent appeal. 

” You can not refuse me, tor the sake of old times,” she said. 
‘•Remember w'hat letters these are, to whom they refer, what 
would happen il their contents became known.” 

‘‘ It is just the price of the small Louis Leloir 1 had promised 
myself,” replied old Daudy with a sigh. ‘‘ But there, my dear 
madam. I’ll surrender my caprice to your necessity; but 1 must 
decline positively to meet any such demands again.” 

On the third day, soon after twelve, Mrs. AValdo left Carlton 
.Jlaidens on toot. It surprised the establishment, but all were too 
Well drilled to make any remark. She was very quietly dre.ssed 
in a simple cloth costume, but she carried a bouquet of lilies of 
the valley and bluebells in a prominent place on her breast. 

Passing along the front of the terrace, she w’alked quickly across 
the bottom ot Waterloo Place, in full view of the Athenteum and 
United Service clubs, and so gained Pall Mall. 


118 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


“ Uollou!'’ exclaimed a man in one of the windows of the 
A-thenajuin. “ What takes that old cat, Mrs. AValdo, out so early, 
1 wouder? On toot, too! 1 never heard before of her walking 
half a dozen yards. I’d see what she’s up lo. Serve her right 
after her conduct last Sunday.” 

Tlie speaker was Sir Richard Daunt, who quickly caught up his 
hat and sallied forth into the street. 

Mrs. Waldo’s figure was plainly visible fifty paces ahead, and 
Daunt followed her unobserved, as she continued along Pall Mall 
East, through Trafalgar Square, into Dungannon Stieet, and so lo 
Charing Cross. There she turned quickly down, and made toward 
the river, but on reacl.ing the Embankincnt Gardens under 
Adelphi Terrace she entered them, and sal down. 

Here the comrnisgiouaite came up and accosted her, A short con- 
versation followed, they interchanged parcels, then Mrs. Waldo 
got rrp, passed out on tc the pavement, hailed a hansonr-cab, and 
was speedily driven away. 

Sir Richard Daunt in the distance had witnessed and taken in a 
good ganeral idea of the scene. 

lie saw, too, that the commissionaire as he walked back toward 
Chartug Cross was met by a woman who seemed to have entered 
from the road. 

The commissionaire, after a short colloqrry, went one way, east- 
ward; the woman the other, westward, passing close by Sir Richar d 
Daunt. She was veiled closely, but there was something in her 
figure which seemed not unfamiliar lo him. 

What was the meaning of all this? Daunt had started with the 
idea of spying Mrs. AValdo, but ]\lrs. Waldo had disappeared, and, 
as the last chance of solving the enigma, he could not resist the 
temptation of following the other woman. 

Rut in that he was forestalled. As she left the gardens and passed 
t;mler the railway-arch, a slouching, shabbily dressed man, a man 
gray-haired and o* a certain age, but still very active on his legs, 
darted out from the entrance of the Metropolitan Station, and also 
gave chase. 

The woman moved nimbly along, and was not to be easily over- 
taken, She seemed to know the short cuts Crossing Northum- 
berland Avenue she entered Scotland Yard, threaded the narrow 
passage which leads into Whitehall, and then, still ahead, crossed 
the crowded street, abreast of the opening called Buckingham 
Court, a little secluded passage which leads by the bottom of Spring 
Gardens into St. James’s Park. 


I 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


119 


Here tlie pursuer, who was uow only a few yards behind, quick- 
ened his pace to a run. One word from him brought the woman 
suddenly to a halt. 

‘‘ Fanchette!” he cried. 

She turned, and stopped, aftrighted, exclaiming in her turn— 

“ Leon!'' 

An animated colloquy follow’td in French, little of w'hich, how- 
ever, reached Daunt’s ears. He thought it prudent to pause a lit- 
tle and watch. It was not till the unknown man seized I'anchetle’s 
hand roughly by the wrist and twisted it that he hastened forward 
to her rescue. 

“Give it me,” the man was saying in a furious tone still in 
French. “ 1 will know wdiai this m)'8tery means, and what brings 
)’ou out here at this lime of day!” 

“ Leave me; it is my affair. Leave me, i say, Leon, or 1 will 
call!” 

But uow Daunl’s hand was on the fellow’s collar, and, with a 
sharp wrench the young baronet twisted him round, saying, 
“ Who are you, who lay hands on women in the open London 
stieelsV I shall give you in charge.” 

But the man kept his head down, and struggled violently to 
break away from Daunt. 

“ Quiet, will you! or I’ll knock 5muover. What w^as he doing to 
you, ray dear?” asked Daunt, as be still held the other by the collar. 

“ Why, surely,” added Daunt, hastily, “ 1 can not be mistaken; 
you are Mrs. Waldo's French maid, Fanchette, and you called this 
fellow Leon! Can it be possible!” 

The idea at once came forcibly upon him that it was the marquis 
whom he had thus captured, but, almost before he had time to 
think again, his prisoner, by a fresh and more adroit movement, 
w'riggled himself free, and took to his heels, 

“ At least 1 will know where he goes, and why he is in this 
masquerading attire,” cried Daunt, abandoning Fanchette, and 
giving chase. 

But by the time Daunt began to follow, the mj'steiious person- 
age in trout had gained a lair start, and was making the most of 
it. lie had run straight ahead as fast as his legs could carry him, 
and Daunt ju t caught a glimpse of him turning to the left into 
ilial part ol Spring Gardens which communiaales with the park. 

Bir Richard ran after him, but presently slackened his pace into 
h walk. The fugitive was just In sight, and that was all Daunt 


130 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


wanted. Ilis cbict object iu'lollowiiig the Ciiban was to track him 
down, and gain some intormatiou about him. 

“ For a Cuban marquis,” thoualil Daunt, who kept close to the 
fugitive’s heels, ” our fiieud knows his London remarkably well.” 

Daunt might well say so. The marquis doubled in and out of 
the intricate labyrinth of streets leading to and around Leicester 
Square as though he had lived in the neighborhood all his life. 

“Better and better.” said Sir Richard to himself, “My grn- 
tlcman wishes to show me that he is quite at home in Seven Dials.” 

Wliere ne.xt? Bp Newport Court into Little Newport Street, and 
so to Sceptre Street, past the mass of low tenements which have 
since been pulled down to give place to a noble block of Peabody 
Buildings 

From Sceptre Street the nrarquis went ofl to the riglit into 
Pheenix Street, just opposite the row of quaint red-tiled white- 
washed cottages in Chapel Place; thence into Stacey Street, down 
into New Conrpton Street, sharp into Church Passage, and thus 
gained Dudley Street. 

Where was the marquis new? 

Disappearing down White Jjimt Street. Here he turned off sharp 
into Castle Street, and across the top of Upper St. Martin’s. Lane, 
into West Street. 

“Back to his old diggings. 1 wonder if he thinks he has cot 
r'd of me? It looks like it. For there, at last, he goes to ground.” 

They were once mote In Sceptre Street. The marqrris had halted 
in front of a dingy den. On one side was a shop-front, on which 
were !i few shreds of cat’s-meat, on the oth»T an entrance wMth a 
half-door, communicating with a black passage. Down this he 
went with the assurence and aplomb of a nran who fell at home. 

Daunt promptly followed, nothing dismayed. 

The black passage opened into a small court, at one end of 
which was a second door, and the fa 9 ade of a grimy house. 

Daunt at once knocked at the door. It was opened, after some 
delay, by a woiiiau— a stout, evil-looking, hlowsy creature, with 
one or two wisps of hair lianging untidily over her soddened 1 ice. 

“ What d’ye want?” she asked grullly, in a strange longue. It 
was Americau-Finglish, spoken with a French accent. 

“ What d’ye waul?” she repeated. “ This ain’t no place for 
swells to fool around.” 

“ A friend of mine. He's just gene in. lie expects me. 1 have 
an appointment with him,” said Daunt, making up the first excuse 
he could. 


PAST AND LOOSE. 


121 


“Greasei? ^Vhy didn'i you say at once? Come rifrbt in.” 

8Ue held the door open tor Daunt, wlic passed througli and was 
about to close it again when a voice trorn the passage was heard 
crying, ‘‘ Hold on. i’m in this swim. Let me in, too.” 

The wcmau tried to shut the door in his lace. 

” No, no; you don’t mamzelle. You know me; it you don’t you 
r ought, tor 1 got you that last ‘stretch ’in Tothill Fields. I’m 
■ coming in, too.” 

” What, Faske?” said Daunt, in great surprise, "1 never ex- 
pected to see you here. What brings you?” 

The detective put his finger to his nose, 

‘‘I expect it’s as well 1 came,” said the detective, (pdetly, ” In 

[ less than five minutes you’d have been in hot water, if no worse.” 
” This house then — 

“ Has one of the worst characters in all Seven Dials.” 

^ ” Come, mister, that ain’t tair,” put in the woman. 

! “ Stow it, mamzelle, or I’ll run you stiaigbt in. But what game 

are you on. Sir Richard?” asked Faske. ” 1 saw you pass through 
: Scotland Yard an hour or so ago. and tollowed quite by chance 
' info Buckingham Court. After that 1 was in the whole hunt, from 
find to finish, and a monstrous good run, too.” 

" But why did you think it necessary to follow, Faske?” said 
Daunt, slill rather annoyed. 

'■ 1 felt sure there was some plant on, so 1 telt it my duty to keep 
you in sight.” 

‘‘ Did you recognize my man? 1 want to find out who he is; 
that’s wliat I’ve been after all day.” 

” 1 cculd never see his face rightly, never; that bothered me. I 
seemed to know his slouch and that hang of the left leg— all old 
French lags have it, you know; but not seeing his face ligUtJy, 
and the gra}' hair, 1 was puzzled, 1 won’t den}',” 

” 1 am determined to know, sooner or later.” 

” Is he ‘ wanteil ’? Is it a job in which 1 can lend a hand, or a 
private adventf.re of your own? 1 dare say 1 shall come across 
him.” 

Daunt did not care to tell the police officer wliy he was so anxious 
to unveil the mystery about tlie niarqtris. Faske had takerr so 
strong a part against Mr. Surtees that it would not have hcerr easy 
to persuade him that there was slill a chance of reversing the sen- 
tence. To have made the detective an ally, for the present, at any 
rate, would probably have done more Imrm than good. 

‘‘I’ll come to you if I’m in trouble, Faske,” said the baronet. 


122 


FAST A KB LOOSE. 


“ I>nl, in the meantime, why shouldn’t we search the house? We 
may find out man somewheio.” 

“No good at all, Sir Richard; the house has another exit. It 
communicates with Burrard Stiect at the back, and 3'ou cun get 
into the Hotel Gaillarrt by that way. Besides, if jmu found your 
friend, have you a warrant to arrest him, or any good grounds for 
meddling with him?” 

Daunt shook his head. 

“ Then we couldn’t touch him, even if we caught him: and the 
sooner we get out of these slums the better both for you and me.” 


CHAPTER XX. 

FANCHETTE GONE. 

Next day Daunt sent for Mr. Haggle. 

The confidential agent was full of apologies and excuses. 

“ i had hoped before this to give you some news of Mr. burtees,” 
he began. 

“ It’s not necessary, thank you,” replied Daunt, coldly. “ Mr. 
Surtees will be here this afternoon. 1 have seen him constantly 
this last week.” 

“ (Jan it be possible? Ilow’ can he have escaped us, I wonder?” 

“ Much in the same way as the Marquis de Ojo Verde has, since 
1 commissioned you to inquire about him.’' 

“ Pardon me. Sir Richard, we have had our eye on the marquis 
for some lime past, but there was really nothing to tell you. He 
leads the life of a gentleman of fasluon between his chambers, his 
triends’ mansions, and his club, the Junior Belgrave.” 

“ All, 1 have heard of it,” said Daunt, dryly. “ Does he go 
there, 1 wonder, in disguise, as 1 saw him 3'esterday in Seven Dials?” 

“ The marquis in Seven Dials! Oh, Sir Richard, you are joking, 
surely, or you must be strangely mistaken,” 

“ Not a bit ot it. My watch on the fellow is evidently belter 
than yours. That was what 1 wanted to tell you. 1 shall not re- 
quire your assistance any longer,” itud he dismissed the agent 
summarily. 

Presently Bob Surtees came in, brimful of news. 

“ Only think. Daunt,” he. began at once, “ it is most extraordi- 
nary— 1 have seen Helena to-day.” 

“ That is not so very extraordinary. Bob.” 


I 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


123 


“ No, but what she told me is. Just fancy, FanchcKe bas gone.” 
‘‘Gone!” cried Dauut, in intense surprise. ‘‘When? Why? 
Where?” 

” 8hc and old Mother Waldo have had a flaming row, not the 
first, it appears, hut yesterday things came to a crisis. F'anchelte 
was out when she was wanted; Mrs. Waldo slanged her, tlio 
Frenrh woman gave it to her back, and the noise was heard all 
over the house. The upshot ol it all was that Fanchetle walked 
oil the same day.” 

” Does anybody know wliat is to become of her?” 

” Tliey say she started for Paris by the night-mail.” 

” Well, that is natuial enough, it is her home, and she would go 
there, (f course; but what will she do, 1 wonder, now?” said 
Daunt, musing over the announcement. 

” Helena’s maid says that Fanchette swaggered a good deal 
about her future plans. It seems she has got tog. ther a good bit 
of monc}'; and she thinks of buying a business for heisell in the 
millinery, or Unyerie, or hair-dressing line.” 

” We must follow her and find out, 1 expect Fanchette will be 
of great use to us yet. It is quite evident that she has fallen out 
with tlie marquis, and for the present, at any rate, will have uoth- 
inn more to say to him.” 

Then Daunt p.'issed on to describe W’hat had occurred the day 
before. 

‘‘ 1 suppose it ^cas the marquis?” said Bob. 

‘‘I ha\.'e not the slightest dcubt of it myself,” replied Daunt; 

” and it convinces me, in the firsi place, that the fellow is not what 
ho pretends; and in the second, that he is a moving spirit in the 
whole villainy. But we must know more about him, and for that 
1 rely on you.” 

” What can 1 do? You know you have only to tell me.” 

” Foil must replace me in keeping 5 'our eye on the marquis, for 
now he will not give me a chance of gelling near him. and we can 
not trust Haggle and Horry any more. Besides, as soon as 1 can 
get about again 1 shall start for Paris,” 

” Paris? After Panchetle, 1 suppose?” 

” Piecisely. 1 know my Paris; 1 can speak French fluently, 
and, thanks to my legal couise there, I am well known to the 
magistracy and at tne Pietecturo. It wdll be odd il 1 do not come 
upon her track and hunt up all about her,” 

Shall yoq start soon? Shall we sep you again?” asked Bob, ^ 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


124: 

little a"vkwarilly, but with cvidtnt anxicly. “ Josephine would 
like — I mean she wants — ” 

“ Go on, my dear Boh. You know, or ought to know, that 1 
am absolutely and completely at hei and 3 mur disposal.” 

We aie thinking of breaking up our little establishment in 
Pimlicc. 1 am going on a short provincial lout, and Josephine is 
anxious to move to Chatham.” 

” To Chatham?” 

” \es; the dear dad is to be transferred to that prison, and 
Josephine is anxious to be as near him as possible.” 

‘‘ What a strange girl she isl” cried Daunt, in genuine admira- 
tion. 

” Can you help her to a new situation there?” 

‘‘ it shall be done,” replied Daunt, readily; and it was not till he 
had seen his love settled down in her new home, that he began his 
preparations for following Fanchelte to Pari’^. 

It was first of all necessary to reach Paris incognito; it he went 
openly, if his departure for the gay capital were bruited about, 
as it would certainly be by the papers, the fact might raise the sus- 
picions of the marquis and his confederates. 

The first step, then, was to get to Paris unobserved, lie had no 
means of knowing whether or not any watch had been set on his 
movements, but he did not much caie. Ilis plan was to leave the 
.\lbany in broad daylight, but lot lor any of the railway stations 
which booked direct lor Paris. 

lie meant to travel by a metre circuitous rcute. 

One fine morning in June he left his chambers dressed in frock- 
coat and tall hat, and went to bieakfast at the Athenaium. The 
road he took was along Piccadillj’ and down ^'aletloo Place. 
Twice <ni route he halted, suddenly turned round, and retraced his 
steps lor a few dozen yaids. On both occasions he detected tne 
same individual following him, who, when he turned back, turned 
b ick. too. 

They are watching me, then,” said Daunt to himself, ” I’ll 
lead this fellow a fine dance. It will be odd if 1 don’t give him 
the slip,” and he went on to his club. 

T’here he secured a table nrar the window having a full com- 
mand of Waterloo Place and part of Pall Mall. As he calmly dis- 
cussed Itis breakfast he saw the spy, a shabbily dressed, secd^’ gen- 
tleman in a suit of rusty black, hovering about between the Arcade 
under Her Majesty’s Theater and the corner of Waterloo Pluce. 

When he had finished his breakfast he sent a trusty messenger 


FAST AND LOOSE. 1^5 

to liis bankers and got cash for a check tor £500, Daunt filled 
his purse with the notes and fiohl; then, buttoning up his coat, 
sallied forth. 

lie walked quickly toward Charing Cross, and, on arriving there, 
got on the top cl a Brixton bus. 

From this point ot vantage, as he traveled along, he plainly saw 
his friend, the spy, call a hansom cab and follow. The bus went 
a.s far as Kenuiugton church. There Daunt chnuged into a tram- 
car, and went as far as Now Cross. The hansom still followed. 
At New Cross Daunt got into the station of the East London Rail- 
way, and booked to Liverpool 8lieet. As the train ran into the 
platform he got into a first-class cairiag.e, and saw his shadow 
suddenly appear and enter a third. But Daunt went on to lAver- 
pool Street, and there changed quickly to the underground Metro- 
politan line, by which he traveled as far as Gower Street. 

On emerging into the FJuston Road he lootred round, and, seeing 
nothing of his pursuer, saiil with a laugh, “ 1 think 1 liave shaken 
the fellow oft at last;” then, having consulted his watch, he hailed 
a cab, and was driven to the Euston terminus. 

A train was just starting for Willesden Junction. Daunt took it, 
and a quarter of an hour after he had reached that main center of 
our northern railway system. ' 

It was now little more than one o'clock. 

“ Tummond ought to he here by this time,” was Sir Richard’s 
soliloquy. “ 1 hope he has made no mistake. It all goes well I 
shall catch the half past one express, and be at Liverpool in time 
for dinner, llal there he is,” and Sir Richard went up to wlieie 
the faithful servitor was standing with a small collecMou of bag- 
gage. 

” You did what I told you?” asked Sir Richard. 

‘‘ Certainly, sir. 1 drove with the baggage to Broad Street sta- 
tion; T then came on here ly Clialk Farm.” 

” Were you followed, do you think? ’ 

‘‘ Tlicre was a chap saw mo gelling into the cab who came up 
and spoke to me. Wan'ed to know where Major Smith lived— the 
gentleman, 3’ou kiiowg fir, as has X22; asked me. too, if 1 was go- 
ing into the country. 1 faid my master was going down into Hert- 
fordshire for a bit. and I was to meet him there with the luggage.” 

“ Capital, Tummond: that ilnows liiein completely off the .scent. 
But here is my train. Mind, 1 must have a carriage to myself. 
See about it. Mill you, ami tip the guard.” 

When the halt past six train reached Idverpool fi very different 


FAST ANJ) LOOSE. 


12(1 

person tlescendcfl from the carriage into which Sir Kicliarcl Daunt 
had enteml. Instead ot the young baronet, with his slight, active 
figure, this was a person inclined to corpulence, who walkeil with 
the staid, ponderous step of middle age. He wore trim-cut whis- 
kers, and not the light-brown beard of Sir Richard Daunt, llis 
hair also was gray and very long. lie was dressed in sober clothes, 
had a broad-brimmed hat, and round his neck a ratlier crumpled 
while tie. llis gold-rimmed spectacles increased the solemnity of 
hie grave face, and his whole appearance was that ot a dissenting 
minister who had got rather a foieign look from a long course ot 
continental travel. 

Thus disguised. Sir Richard Daunt drove to the Stork Hotel. 
He secured a room there, giving the niu;c ot Joliau, and an ad- 
aress in Paris. Next morning he embarked on board one of the 
Pacific steamers, and a couple ot days later landed at Bordeaux. 

In the books of the Hotel Gotincau, where he lodged, he gave 
Hie same name, and called himself a native ot Caen, in Normandy. 
In Bordeaux he only stayed one night; thence went on through to 
Paris. The hotel he had selected there was little better than a 
maison meublee, but it was cpiiet, and out of the way of English 
visitors. 

It was situated at the end of the l^uai Voltaire, not tar from 
the Palais de Justice. 

Sir Richard had particular reasons for residing in this neighbor- 
hood. He wished to be hand}’^ to the Prefecture, and the chief 
office of the French detective police. 

It was to the head of it, or, as he is known in Paris, the CheJ^ de 
la Siireie, that he paid his first visit next morning. 

Although in aspect still a young man, M. Acme had had some 
fivc-and-twenly years’ police experience, and was thoroughly master 
of his peculiar profession. A small man, quick and active in voice 
and gesture, rne who in speaking to you at once gave you his 
whole undivided attention, looking keenly at you with his bright, 
inquisitive eyes, as though to read your inmost thoughts. 

“ Well, sir,” said M. Acme, when Sir Richard w’as introduced. 
They were old friends, but Daunl’s disguise was impenetrable. 
*' In what can 1 be of service to you?” 

‘‘ I have called to give some information, and to ask for some. 
1 have reason to think that a crime has been committed, followed 
by a lailure of justice in the conviction of an innocent man.” 

H re, in PianceV” 

” No, in England,” then seeing M. Acme shrug his shoulders as 


PAST AKD LOOSP. 


127 


it he did not much cure to distress himself with matters foreign to 
his own count!}', “ hut some of the persons implicated are French 
people; one resides here, in Paris, 1 believe, and it Is to uneartli 
her that 1 ask your assistance.” 

‘‘ Monsieur is French?” asked Acme. 

Sir Richard, in answer, pointed to the card bearing the name of 
J( liau. 

You must first assure me of your right to claim our assistance, 
before I can make any answer to your request,” 

” 1 tiiink we have met before, M, Acme!” and then, with a laugh 
at the h renchme-n’s evident astonishment. Daunt hastily removeii 
his gray wig and his gold-brimmed spectacles, sajing, “1 have 
imposed upon one (<f the shrewdest poUciers in Europe.” 

” Sir Richard Daunt!” cried M. Acme, springing to his feet, and 
laughing heartily; ‘‘ 1 am fairly caught; but what has led to this 
travesty? Please explain.” 

Daunt, having first resumed his wig, took his seat, and proceeded 
to tell his whole story, 

M. Acme listened with deep attention. 

“It is cievcilj' reasoned out; and your conclusions are probable, 
although it will be difficult to prove them; clearly that is to say, 
so as to shake the sentence of the English court. I'ou have not 
told me yet how I can help.” 

” Why, by unmasking that sot distant marquis, of course, and 
by putting me on the trace of Eanchette.” 

‘‘ The first is next to impossible, mon cJier; we have no facts to 
go upon.” 

‘‘ But 1 have given you his description, and his Christian name, 
Leon; and the fact that he tire d gauche, or drags his left leg, a 
sure mark of an old galley'-slave.” 

“ It is not enough; his signalement will not help us, for he is 
sure to be in disguise; Leon is a common Christian name, and 
there are thousands of old convicis in the country. Abandon jM. 
Leon for the present and stick to Fanchette.” 

“You can help me there, can’t you?” 

” 1 dare say. Paris is a large place, but the Prefecture has many 
eyes, and no one can escape it tor long. What do you say' this 
woman Fanchette intended to do?” 

” Her own fellow-servants declare that she meant to buy the good- 
will of some 8h.>p d cremerie or d lingerie, or the business of a 
coiffeur, but there may be a thousand such in Paris, and it may 
not be easy to find out her new address.” 


128 


Jast and loose. 


" We have waj’S anfl means. In llic first place, if she has bought 
a business there will be a record ot the tri.nsfer. A parro.v scarcli 
of the registers will tell us what busiutsses have lately changed 
hands; Dirt, before we do that, let us think for one n-onreut what 
she w'oulil probiihly prefer. Tire cremerie, I think, we may leave 
out of the question,” 

“ But why?” 

‘‘ It would not be in her line. A lady’s-maid would not care to 
mix herself up wrlh the sale ot food. 1 doubt very much whether 
she would take to lingerie ; it is an intricate business that requires 
some special training. !Now, the hair-dressing is diUcreut. It is 
part ot the lady's-maid’s daily work.” 

‘‘ But are not coiffeurs in Paris always men?” 

‘‘ Tiiere is no reason why a woman should not he a proprietor 
anti employ male assistants. Yes; 1 think we will first exhaust 
that line of inquiry. Let me see, in whose hands shall I put it? 
Jobard? Y’es, Jobard will do,” and, touching his bell, the chef 
summoned that subordinate to his presence, ” Y'ou wi.sh, 1 i)ie- 
sume, to preserve jumr incognito ?” be went on to Daunt. 

“ 1 think so; it will give me a better chance with Fanchettc if 
we find her.” 

“ What is your address?” 

“For the present, the Hotel Turenne; but, it 1 am to stay here 
for long, 1 shall take an apartment, provided you can recommend 
me a good, safe servant.” 

” We will see about that by and "by; but here is Jobard.” An i 
as M, Acme spoue the doer opened and gave admission to a tall, 
well-dressed,’ middle aged man, wMlh a pleasing countenance an ! a 
military air. 

“ This is M. Joliau,” said the chej to his subordinate. ” He lo.s 
need of certain information which I think you will be able let put- 
cure. The matter is secret, and of the utmost importance.” 

And the chef pi-oceeiled to explain to M. Jobard what it was ho 
wanted to do. 

Daunt and the detective then left the Palais together, the latter 
promising to call at the Hotel Turenne within a day or two at the 
latest. 


FAST AFtD LOOSE. 


129 


CHAPTER XXI. 

IN TIIH HUE DU liAC. 

On llie third day M. .lobard called. 

“ Well,” said Sir Richard, ” what success?” 

‘‘ INot nurch, ] t»-ar, at present. linless, indeed, 1 misundef’ 
stood 3'onr description of Madame— or was it Mademoiselle — Fan 
chelle?” 

” The latter; as lar as 1 know, the woman was not married.” 

" And she was young?” 

” Comparatively so, certainly.” 

” But not old or giay-haired?” 

” Oh, no! no! in tlie least. I particularly noticed her majrnifl. 
ceid black hair, which was all the more remarkable from the con- 
trast with her dead- white complexion.” 

“ It is as 1 tear; my lady answers all requirements— she has 
lately bought the business, she has dark eyes, black eyebrcws, 
an(t dead-white complexion, but slie is old, pass^e, a wmman ot a 
certain age, with a marked tendency Ko embonpoint.” 

" It IS not Fanchette, then, or at least not at all like her. Un- 
less. indeed, she has purposely altered her appearance.” 

” Uniler what name docs she go?” 

” It is not Fanchette Durnoulin, you may be sure. The name is 
Vowwi— veuve Poirat. It is painted up small under the name of 
her predecessor, Renaudin, wdio has recently retired, and with 
his savings bought a villa and farm in Touraine. But what do you 
say, monsieiii? Shall we go together and inspect this shop?” 

*■ With all my heart. Let us start at once.” 

It was in the Rue ilu Bac, an establishment with some preten- 
sions clearly. It professed to do everything. There were inscrip 
lions in gilt letters upon the signboards, and around the shop 
front, that bore witness to this. Here were to be had coiffures 
de mariees, lemons de coiffure, teinturerie d la minute de clieveux, 
parfumene au choix; while that skillf ulncsB was no empty boast 
was proved by the display of three ‘‘diplomas of capacity,” and 
one or two medals granted by goodness knows whom. 

‘‘ There is the nest,” said M. Jobard; ” it is lor you, monsieur, 
to say whether it contains your bird or anothey,” 

6 


130 


PAST AND LOOSE. 


“ 1 will soon .settle that,” replied Dauut, makiug straight for 
the door. 

‘‘ Stay, monsieur, stay; is it safe — does she know you?” 

‘‘ She lias never seen me bctoie—like this,” at whicli remark 
liie detective winked knowingly at Daunt, thereby showing that 
h - had long since seen this, the disguise. 

” ll-ajour, maclame,” said Daunt, with elaborate civility, as he 
( Id' 1 lal 1 iio shop. 

" JJon Jour, monsieur,” replied the lady at the counter, with 
equal jiolileness. 

Was it Fanchette, or net? Surely it was her voice, but, as the 
detective had said, instead ot a young woman this was one ot a 
certain age. Was she real!}’ as oUl as she looked at the first glance? 

Her hair was gray, no doubt; but where were the tell-tale wrin- 
kles, the drawn mouth, the failed eyes, the dried skin? signs un- 
mistakable, which in spite of all artifices betray advancing years. 

But there was no old age in her rather high pitched not un- 
pleasant voice, and it was with much vivacity and some pcit- 
ncss that she addressed Daunt, who did not seem in any hurry to 
commence the conversation. 

” Eh Men, monsieui, in what can I oblige you?” 

‘‘Ah, m.adume, pardon; 1 fear I have made some mistaue. 1 
was seeking an esteemed old friend, iM. Rtnaudin. Is he no 
longer here?” 

“ No, monsieur; he is letired fiom affairs, and with a nice little 
fortune; Men eniendu.” 

” Lei us hope that madame will equally find fortune in this 
coquettish establishment. But it is unfortunate that ni)’’ fr'erul 
has gone away. 1 have a message for him from a person in Eng- 
land. Do you know England, madame?” 

‘‘ Oh, j'csl I was a confidential companion to a lady ot rank, 
in liondon. I lived in the West End, mar Fall Mall.” 

During this convcisation Sir Richard had been watching her 
( loscly; and now he had no longer any doubt as to her identity. 

r.ill Mall! Carlton Gardens! It must be Fanchette herself. 

As he thus looked hard he wondcied whether she suspected 
him in any way. But there was not the slightest symptom of 
lliis, amt he thought it prudent, therefore, to withdraw fiom the 
shop befoio her suspicions w'cre aroused. 

” That is the woman sure enough,” he said. ‘‘ Jt is very 
clever of you to have found her out so soon. But this is only the 
beginning of the business,” 


PAST AKD loose. 


131 


“ Monsieur wishes lo know all about her, 1 suppose— tc set a 
watch upon her, in fact?” 

‘‘ Exactly, flow do you think it can best be done?” 

‘‘ 1 think monsieur had better take up his residence in the same 
house. There is an apartment to let on i\\& entresol immediately 
above the shop. When once installed there monsieur will be able 
lo keep his eye on the lady, and by and by, on the strength ot 
being a neighbor, he may strike up a closer acquaintance.” 

‘‘ An excellent idea! 1 will carry it out at once.” 

‘‘ But cautiously, monsieur, cautiously. You had better pretend 
to seek madame’s advice before taking the rooms,” 

Sir Rioiiard readily assented, and presently returned to Fan- 
chette’s shop. 

‘‘ Madame,” he said, as he re entered, ” 1 am desolated at being 
so importunate; but you were so obliging just now that I venture 
to request another great favor of so charming a person.” 

“Ah, monsieur,” said Fanchette, simpering, “no excuses, 1 
beg,” 

“ 1 had another object in calling this morning, but the leaux 
yexix of madame completely drove it out of my head. My friend 
M. Renaudin told me some time ago that there was an apartment 
to let in this house.” 

“Yes,” said Fanchette. promptly, “and it is still vacant. Is 
monsieur seeking a new gite? 'Wa shall be foitunate to secure 
so agreeable a person as a fellow-lodger.” 

“ Oh, madame, you are too good. It is enough inducement to 
be near you.” 

Fanchette smiled and showed all her white teeth at the compli- 
ment. 

“ But perhaps madame could tell me,” went on Daunt, “ some- 
thing more ol the house, the landlord, the locataires. 1 am a 
peaceable, casy-geing man, living on my own modest rentes, and 
1 desire to spend my time tranquilly in a decent and respectable 
place.” 

“ Monsieur will assuredly find all that he seeks here,” said 
Fanchette, with a most engaging air, and quite a captivating smite; 
“ 1 am but newly come into the neighborhood, but 1 have found it 
all that 1 could wish,” 

“ Madame’s recommendation is more than sufficient,” said Sir 
Richard; “ 1 will go to Vm concierge ; he will no doubt show me the 
rooms.” 

Everything was speedily and satisfactorily arranged. Within a 


132 


FAST AFTD LOOSE. 


couple of days M. Joliau, alias Sir i^ichard Daunt, took posses- 
sion ot the entresol iu the Rue du Bac. He had furnished it trom 
the nearest upholsterer’s, aud his friends at the Bretecture had 
provided him with a female servant, called Delphine, a thoroughly 
trustworthy and confidential woman, who was no other than the 
wife of M. Jobard. 

Acting under her master’s instructions, Delphine lost no time in 
worming hetself into Panchette’s confidence. She listened attent- 
ively to the other’s grievances, her loneliness, her need for some 
strong, support and sound advice in her business, and had at once 
tendered her the soirndest advice. 

“ Madame should marry again,” Delphine said one morning as 
she returned trom the Halles, where she had been marketing. 
“ Mon Mieu, n hat a chance!” 

“ Tais, ioi,” replied Fanchette, playfully, hanging her head 
and pretending to blush; ” 1 am far too old, and gray-haired.” 

The latter need not trouble you long in such a shop as your.s,” 
cried Delphine, gayly; “but madame is younger than she looks^ 
1 feel sure.” 

“How do you know that?” said Fanchette, sharply, turning 
on her. 

“ It is easy to see that some trouble, no doirbt, has turned 
madame’s hair. She can not be more than five-and-twenty, surely, 
or thirty at the most. Marry! Je le crois hien, you have but to 
choose.” 

“1 fear to risk my little fortune and my happiness. Men are 
so mercenary and changeable; you can not trust them all.” 

“Madame should take some middle-aged man, a rentier, hien 
pose, w'ith a thcrough knowledge of aSairs — some one like my 
master, par exemple. 

“ M. Joliau is a bachelor, then?” 

“He has never been married. His heart was in his business, 
an excellent business too; he made it himself, and the fortune 
which leaves him so early entirely at his ease.” 

“ What was his metier?” asked Fanchette, deeply interested. 

“ A wholesale grain merchant, with a specialite in oil-cake for 
cattle, a process which he discovered himself. He is very clever, 
you must understand, and could squeeze money out of old stones.” 

“ It is strange that he never married,” went on Fanchette, 
thoughitully, and clinging to the main idea in her mind. 

“ lie was too much occupied, as 1 told you, and he had no near 
friends to pul him in the right load. But now he is tired ot it, 1 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


133 


know, and he would gladly change his condition, if the right 
woman only came in his way. Sue would be fortunate, madame, 
1 assure you, who secured so e.\cellent a man.” 

This was the first of several conversations of the same cliarac- 
ter. Delphine, quite by accident of course, constantly threw herself 
in Fanchelte’s wa}% and Fancbette was never tiled of healing 
what there was to be said about the old gentleman upstairs. 

What she had learned, together with M. Joliau’s engaging ways, 
had evidently impressed her much. When they met, which hap- 
pened frequently in the door- way, where Fauchette stood smiling, 
or in the shop, when M. Joliau entered to give her good-day, 
there was always an interchange of compliments and much pleas- 
ant little talk. It was by this time voisin and mmne with them. 

The attentions of M. Joliau were not less marked than (he pleas- 
ure with which Fanchette received them. 

It was quite a joke in the neighborhood and in the house. 
Common gossip declared that they were going to make a match of 
il, and most people were agreed that it was a very wise thing to 
do. Their names were constantly coupled together, and if uuy fete 
or function were coming ofl they were both invited as a matter of 
course. 

They were thus asked to honor with their presence a grand wed- 
ding which took place from their house, one of those showy core- 
monies in which the Parisian bourgeois delights; when, for once 
at least in their lives, bride and bridegroom, their relaiions, and 
all their guests, drive in cariiages to the Bois de Boulogne, to 
alight at the Cascade, and perambulate, two and two, arm in arm, 
about the place. 

There weie no less than six carriages at this vieAding—voituresde 
remise de grande luxe — and the breakfast was equal to the occasion. 

After a couple of hours’ feasting, the whole party rose to make 
a promenade through the woods. Fanchette of course look M. 
Joliau’s arm. She was beaming with delight, remembering many 
soft speeches whispered into her ear by her neighbor at the table, 
and she was in great hopes that he might be about, on this auspi- 
cious occasion, to lay himself and his fortune at her feet. 

iM. Joliau’s language certainly encouraged the idea. 

” What could be more delightful than such a Uie d-tete as this?” 
he asked, w’ith a languishing glance. ” Would that it might last 
forever.” 

” Ah, mensieur!” was all that Fanchette could reply. 

"Ill could only find a response in the quarter 1 desjre,” 


134 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


M. Joliau took Fanchette’s hand, and seemed on the point of 
speaking much more tenderly, when his companion gave a half 
scream, and almost fainted in his arms. 

“ That man!” she cried. “ Ceme let us go back; he must not 
see me, not for worlds, with you,” she gasped out. 


CHAPTER XXll. 

AT THE BANK. 

Waldo's was little changed since we were last there. Mr. 
Waldo had been in tailing health of late, and was sometimes com- 
pelled to absent himselt for days together. 

When this was the case papers dealing with important questions 
were referred to him at home. Occasionally Mr. Dandy, with mani- 
fest reluclaucc, tore himselt away from his dilettante life at Wim- 
bledon and looked in at the bank. But there were many matters, 
part of the every-day routine business, which would brook no 
delay, and which had to he disposed of then and there. All such 
work fell upon the shoulders of Mr. Percy Meggitt, who, as cash- 
ier, stood next to the partners in the establishment. 

As 1 have said, he was a thorough master of his business. He 
came, in consequence, to be trusted more and more by his employ- 
ers, especially by Mr. Dandy. 

A considerable change had come over Mr. Meggitt within the 
last few months. 

He had blossomed out and expanded in harmony with his im- 
proved fortunes. He indulged more trccly in his fondness for 
showy swagger, and aspired more and mr I’e to be thorrght a tip (( p 
swell, a fashionable man about town. They hated him more than 
ever at the bank. 

” Who’s here to-day?” asked young Driffield one morning when 
he came in late. ” Either of the guv’nors?” 

“No; only Lord Percy,” that being the name by which Meggitt 
now went in the bank. “ And he has asked twice already for 
you. \ou are to go in to him at once.” 

“It’s very surprising, Mr. Driffield,” said Meggitt, severely, 
when the offending clerk appeared, “ most surprising that you can 
not be up to time. I must bring your want of punctuality to the 
notice of the firm.” 

” 1 hops you won’t this time, sir; it sha’u’t occur again.” 


PAST AND LOOSE. 


135 


“ So you said last lime, and to-day you are later than ever. Wo; 
1 must tell Mr. Dandy: 1 expect aim here to day. That will do,’* 
said Mr. Meggitt, coldly. 

Mr. Dandy arrived later in the day. lie went straight into the 
bank-parhr, tvnere he found the csshier hard at worK. 

Well, Meggitt,” said the senior partner, in his cheery little 
voice, “ how is business going to-day?” 

” Nothing could be better, sir.” 

“ How about that Chilian railway stock, of which we hold so 
much?” 

“ There is a decided movement upward. What do you think we 
had better do, sir?” 

‘‘Give Limming orders to sell if they touch sixty one; the 
mcney will just do for that mortgage you were talking about.” 

“ You still approve of the investment, sir? ’ 

‘‘ Of course, and so does Waldo; don’t ycu agree?” 

‘‘ I do, most certainly, sir, if ycu ask my opinion. Everything 
is in order. Claytons have seen the title-deeds, which perfectly 
satisfy them as to the security. The bank will receive seven per 
cent., and, if we were obliged to foreclose, the lands, when re- 
claimed, would fetch twice the amount of our loan.” 

‘‘1 think it is very clever of you to have got us such a client. 
How did you come across the Maiquis de Ojo Veide?” 

‘‘ 1 met him abroad, sir. Accident first made us acquainted, and 
we soon became great friends.” 

‘‘ He is extremely rich, is he not?” 

‘‘ He has a current account here with a deposit of never less than 
eight or ten thousand pounds.” 

‘‘ Excellent; you are a treasure, Meggitt. And he is not the only 
new customer you have brought the bank; there are Fleming and 
Co., (>f Manchester, and that Yorkshiie connection, and those new 
wharfingers, and the Swiss people for whom we have become cor- 
respondents, and the great mercury mine in Andalusia. It was all 
your doing; really, Meggitt, the bank is extremely obliged to you.” 

‘‘ You know, sir, you can command my best energies. 1 owe 
everything to the bank,” 

‘‘ Then the bank won’t be ungrateful, as you will find in the 
Jong run. But there, all that will keep; 1 am in a hurry; there is 
a great sale at Christie’s to-day.” 

‘‘One moment, sir; 1 should like to speak to you about Mr. 
Driffield, one ot the clerks.” 

” Ohl don’t bother me with such details. 1 leave all those mat 


136 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


ters in your hands;” and so saying, Mr. Dandy seized his hat and 
ran oB; to the sale. 

The day’s business went on steadily and tvithout intermission. 

By and by young Driffield came in timidly, like a dog in dis- 
grace, with his tail between his legs. 

Well,” asked the cashier, abruptly, ” what do you want? I 
have been talking to Mr. Dandy about you. But you might have 
waited till 1 sent for you. You will hear your fate fast enough. 
What brings you here. 1 repeat?” 

“ 1 am doing discount clerk just now, sir, instead of Jenkins, 
who is on his holiday.” 

” Well, well, 1 know that; and you have to enter all acceptances 
in the bill-book. 1 hope you are careful to do them exactly?” 

“ 1 try to do my best, sir. That is why 1 have come to you 
now. There are these two bills for £7000 and £5000 accepted by 
Kothschilds. Ought they not to go back to be veritied and checked?” 

‘‘ By whom are they drawn?” 

" By Flemings, of Manchester.” 

” Flemings; an excellent tlrm, although new to us. Why 
should they go back?” asked the cashier, sharply. ” Are they not 
perfectly correct and in due form?” 

“ IN ot quite, sir. The indorsements are not dated.” 

“ Let me look at them,” went on Mr. MeggitI, still more sharp- 
ly; and as he spoke he looked so keenly at the young clerk that a 
shrewd observer might have detected some anxiety in the glance. 
But at that moment Mr. Waldo walked straight into the parlor. 

” You, sir!” cried Meggitt. ‘‘ 1 never hoped to see you here to- 
day. 1 sincerely trust you are better, and that there is nothing rash 
in your coming to the office.” 

‘‘1 am much better, much better, thank you, Mr. Meggitt; in 
fact, almost myself,” replied the working partner, ‘‘ 1 could not 
bear to stay away. Besides, to-day 1 had particular reasons for 
coming to business. Ycu know those German wharfingers — ” 

“Baumgartner and Gottlieb? Certainly.” 

“Yes. Well. 1 am in a state of some doubt as to their — 
But what are you doing here?” 

This was to Mr. Driffield, wffio, still holding the Rothschild bills 
in his hand, had stood there doubting whether to gc or stay'. 

“ 1 was speaking to Mr. Meggitt about two slightly irregular 
acceptances which 1 thought ought to be referred back.” 

“ Whose are they?” 


FAST AND LOOSE. 137 

"‘Drawn by Fleminjj' of Mtinchesler, and accepted by Roths 
childs. They are not — ” 

Mr. Waldo waved his hand, as though the mention of the great 
princes of finance was more than sufficient for him. 

“ Yes, yes, Driffield, that will do, ” went on Meggitt. “Leave 
;he bills wilh me. 1 shall probably step over to New Court before 
the day is out. and 1 will see that the correction is made.” 

The young cleric left the office, and Mr. Waldo remained alone 
with his cashier. 

“ Raumgartner and Gottlieb, you were saying, Mr. Waldo — ” 
proceeded Megsritl, after a pause. 

“ A very curious thing has occurred. You know we have made 
them large advances on dock warrants?” 

“ \es; six or seven thousand pounds. 1 can easily tell you the 
amount if you will wait a moment. The warrants are chiefly fer 
spelter, pig-lead, and Swedish iron, lying at the firm’s wharf — the 
Providence Wharf.” 

“ Precisely; the Providence Wharf. Well, my old friend Smith- 
son, you know, the colonial broker, hearing 1 was laid up, came to 
see me this morning; partly that, and partly, 1 think, to ask my 
advice. He also had some advances on dock warrants for cochi- 
neal—” 

“ Yes,” said Meggitt, showing a keen interest, 

“The warrants bore the stamp ‘ Providence Wharf.’ Never 
'having heard of it, he sent a clerk down to inquire about the place 
and inspect the goods — ” 

“Quite so; what then?” Meggitt seemed more and more inter- 
ested. 

“ The goods were there right enough; there and in some neigh- 
boring warehouses, Merchisens’, for which Baumgartners paid 
rent.” 

“ Ah! Then why was Mr. Snr.ithson dissatisfied or uneasy?” 

“ The clerk, it seems, did not consider that he had done enough; 
so he went on to the dock company to verify the entry of the goods 
in their books. What d’ye Uiink he found? A ‘ stop ’ on them in 
favor of another party.” - 

“ Dear nee, how awkward! And what did Smithson do?” 

“ You know it was almost a Mansion House aftair, and he did 
talk of having Baumgartners up before the Lord Mayor.” 

“ IV hy didn’t he?” asked Meggitt, coolly. “ It seems a rascally 
transaction. 

“ Baumgartners explained that it was all a stupid mistake of one 


138 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


of I heir clerks; they promised the ' slop ’ should be at once re- 
moved, and the goods handed over to Smithson, if he would go no 
further.'’ 

•'Did he agree?” 

•‘No; it was that he came to consult me about, and, in fact, 
which has brought me here.” 

” VAliat shall you advise, sir?” 

*' I'ou see we are largely mixed up with these people, and I don’t 
like to think how much we might lose it anything went wrong 
with them.” 

“ It may have been a mistake after all,” suggested Meggitt. 

” W hich might be repeated. How do we know they are not car- 
rying on this game — putiing double sets of warrants into circula- 
tion; getting advances twice over, in fact, for the same goods?” 

” The}’^ would be certainly touud out in the end; and just think 
of the risk they would run, the shame of exposure, and the conse- 
(juences.” 

‘‘1 know all that; but still we might be left planted with a lot 
of their fictitious paper. We have six odd thousand now ; how 
much of that is false?” 

” 1 should certainly have no more dealings with them. They 
must be slack unbusiness-like people at best; but, as to our present 
engagements, 1 question much the wisdom of pressing matters to 
the biller end. Suppose the w'orst came to the worst, that we ran 
them in. convicted them of fraud? What would our position be?” 

” We shall liave rrd the commercial community ot two uncon- 
scionable rogues.” 

‘‘ And have lost six thousand pounds in the transaction. No, sir; 
jf you ask my advice, 1 say watch and wait. Let us see wliether 
they intend to repay their loans, and, rf there is the slightest sus- 
picion, lay hands on all we can.” 

” 1 dare say you are right,” said old Waldo, musing. His recent 
illness had robbed him ot much of his old, practical common sense, 
and he was inclined to vacillate and hesitate a good deal on such 
occasions as these. Meggitt helped him gn atly to make up his mind. 

” We will not press the matter then, at present; but meanwhile 
there must be no more transactions with them, 1 am convinced ot 
that, and I think Mi. Dandy would bear me < ut.” 

*■' No doubt, sir. He seldom differs with you By the way, he 
was here this morning.” 

■‘Beally; did he stay long? What business have you been, do- 
ing?” 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


139 


“ The most important is the withdrawal of our large holdings in 
Chilian railway stock, and the transfer ot the same to a mortgage.” 

“ The mortgage w^e were speaking of— on the marquis’s Italian 
estates?” 

Meggitt replied in the affirmative. 

‘‘ By the way, have you seen our triend the marquis? 1 have a 
message for him from my wife.” 

” He will be here probably this atterr^oon. 1 promised to let him 
have an answer with regard to the mortgage directly the firm de- 
cided.” 

” If he does not come in before 1 gc, tell him, will you, Mrs. 
"Waldo counts on him for next Saturday at Kew, and begs he will 
not forget her ball. "You are coming, 1 think, Meggitt? All 
right.” 

Then the two settled down at the desks, and went on with their 
work for another hour, at the end of which Mr. "Waldo, who was 
still far from strong, left the bank. 

By this time the business day was drawing to a close. The outer 
doors ot the bank were shut, the public were excluded; only the 
employee were still there, chained to their desks, balancing, enter- 
ing, totaling, and completing the operations of the day. 

But Hoskins came into the bank-parlor about five p.m., to say 
the Marquis de Ojo Verde had called. He was in his brougham 
at the door; would Mr. Meggitt go out and speak to him? 

The cashier obeyed the summons with less alacrity than so im- 
portant a client of the bank might have expected. 

“ Well,” asked the marquis, eagerly,** what do they say? Will 
they advance the hundred thou.?” 

** On certain conditions,” answered Meggitt, sulkily. 

** What conditions? Are not the title-deeds en r^glef Do thei 
wish for more information? 1 will give them any amount.” 

** They wish this to be the last transaction between you an, 
them,” replied Meggitt, looking still more sullen. 

'* You are more manssade, more gauche, to-day than ever, m.),, 
cher. What fly has stung you?” 

** Spare me your French, you' know 1 hate it. Talk WA.te- 
chapel, it will suit you better.” 

‘‘Miserable cur! Don’t stir up my black blood—” begA^ the 
marquis in a threatening voice, his manner changing suddenly. 
” What’s up? 1 ^cill know; 1 insist.” 

** This is no place for us to quarrel in,” said Meggitt, ratll^r more 


140 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


civilly. He seemed cowed at once by the other’s tierce air. “ We 
may be observed, overheard; and 1 have much to suy to you.” 

” Pick your own place, Monsieur Meggitt; but, wherever we 
meet, remember that you will find your match in me.” 

“ 1 don’t want to meet you at all. 1 wish 1 never had met you. 
Tou’ve beeu my curse ever since.” 

” It is you who are quarreling now. But, wyons, be reasonable. 
Why excite yourselt unduly? Give me at least some idea of what 
has occurred? Was it my fault or yours?” 

” Your abominable culpable carelessness has nearly ruined all. 
But tor the merest fluke, the chance that 1 was on the spot — ” 

‘‘ A chance 1 always calculated upon, moneh&r.” 

“ But for the merest flute,” went on Meggitt, little heeding the 
interruption, ” and on two separate occasions, all the fat would 
have been in the fire.” 


CHAPTER XXlll. 

VULTURES AND THEIR FRET. 

A MONTH or SO after Josephine had settled down to her new life 
at Chatham, Bob came down by agreement, and the pair proceeded 
together to the prison. Their father was ” due for a visit,” and 
his children were only tco eager to avail, themselves of permission 
to see Mr. Surtees again. 

Bob and Josephine, having left their cab at some little distance, 
approached the gate, and rang the small bell. The porter who an- 
swered took their visiting order, examined it, and told them they 
must wait. 

” The labor parties are being formed. 1 can’t interrupt the pa- 
rade,” he said, shortly. 

There was a little bench on one side, and there they seated them- 
selves till their turn arrived. 

Presently the gate-Reeper came out and threw open the center 
gates. The measured tramp of hundreds of heavy feet was heard 
approaching, and then came a sad and pitiful procession; the con- 
victs marching with military precision, hundreds of them— two and 
two— formed into small parlies, each accompanied by its warders, 
and all bound tor the “ works.” 

The march to labor lasted half an Iiout : and it was just two be- 
fore Bob and Josephine were admitted into the precincts of the 
prisuH. 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


141 


They found Ihemselvcs in a narrow comparlment, little bigger 
than a box, in another adjoining stood the warder, and in a third 
beyond him, behind a wire grating, they saw the sad, pale face of 
Mr. Surtees. 

“Havoyou seen Sir Richard lately?” asked Mr. Surtees. ” 1 
hoped, perhaps, that he would have come with yen.” 

” Of course he would,” answered Josephine, ” but he is abroad 
on important business.” 

'* res, father,” said Bob, " Daunt and 1 are in great hopes of 
finding out something soon. We are on the track of the right per. 
son at last, and Richard is away following up the clew,” 

” 1 pray he may succeed. The time is long, very long, and my 
burden is hard to bear,” 

” Oh, dear father,” said Josephine, earnestly, ” have confidence 
in us; have patience for a little while more. Trust in Richard and 
Bob, and rest a^-sured that your innocence will soon be proved.” 

“ 1 wish 1 could think so,” replied poor old Surtees, despond- 
ingly. “ Sometimes I think 1 siiall net live to be free again, still 
less to be rehabilitated in the eyes of the world.” 

Bob and Josephine walked back slowly to the town, both of them 
very disconsolate and unhappy. 

“ Oh, Bob, why can't we do more? It is so dreadful to think 
that we must leave him there, buried alive as it seems, and with no 
immediate hope of setting him tree.” 

‘‘ We must not be cast down, Josephine. Daunt is very hopeful, 
you know.” 

” Yes, but everything moves so slowly. Richard has been al- 
ready a long time in Paris, and, except that he has found that 
woman, 1 can’t see that we are a bit nearer the end. And you. Bob, 
what have you done?” 

‘‘ I have my eye on Meggitt and the marquis,” 

‘‘That’s not much good unless you can find something against 
them,” 

‘‘ 1 have a little scheme in my head which ought to enable me to 
penetrate their secrets, and I am going to try it to-morrow cr the 
next day.’” ' 

” What is this wonderful plan?” 

‘‘ Well, it may seem ratlier sneaky to you; but all’s fair in love 
and war, and we are at war— with two of the biggest villains un- 
hung. 1 am going straight into the enemy’s camp.” 

‘‘ Bob! aren’t you afraid? Suppose they were to find you out. 
But how shall you get in?” 


143 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


“ For a long Hme 1 was puzzled how to get near them unob- 
served, 1 could not well go to either of their houses openly. They 
would not have let me in, or, it they had, they would net have 
talked their secrets before me. Then 1 thought 1 might surprise 
them at tneii club, where 1 know they often meet.” 

‘‘The Junior Belgrave? That hateful place where you lost all 
that money? But you are not a member, flow would you get in?” 

‘‘ That was my difficulty. But after thinking a good deal about 
it all, 1 consulted Tummond, Richard’s man. He knows pretty 
well what we aie about, and he has suggested the plan. He is a 
thrifty man, glad to earn an extra penny or two. He goes out a 
good deal, to wait, and 1 am going with him.” 

” But where?” 

” At Ihe club, at the Waldo’s, anywhere where these two scoun- 
drels go. I’ll dog them about, and I’m bound, sooner or later, to 
catch something they say, or, at any rate, guess what they are at.” 

“ But you will be recognized directly, depend upon it.” 

‘‘ Trust me tor that. What! a leading gentleman of the Royal 
Roscius not able to disguise himseli? I’ll bet my own sister won’t 
know me in my make up.” 

” 1 do hope you will be careful. It's a great risk.” 

” I’ll be bold and cautious, both. But 1 must do something, and 
this really seems to be the best.” 

Meggitt’s dinners at the Junior Belgrave had become larger, more 
frequent, and more recherche since his advancement at the bank. 

He gave one ot them a night or two after his meeting with the 
marquis al the door of the bank. It was a grand affair, as usual. 
Several of our friends were ihere — Lord Wingspur, for instance: 
Horace Wingspur, too; and, of course, the marquis. The dinner 
was most elaborate, the wines perfect, the attendance excellent. 
They did these things wonderfully well at the Junior Belgrave, and 
Mr. Meggittwas a member so profuse and liberal in his expenditure 
that he could count always upon being admirably served. 

The guests sat long at table; conversation was lively and well 
maintained; the marquis more than usually entertaining. 

He was one of the last to leave, and, as he was moving away — 
they had adjourned to the smoking-rocm— Meggitt said, ‘‘ Don’t 
go yet, 1 shimld like a word with you.” 

” VVith all my heart,” replied the marquis, and he again sat 
down. 

‘‘ Bring some cigars and two brandies and-soda,” said Meggitt 
to a waiter who was hovering near the table. 


PAST AND LOOSE. l-l-O 

“ Who are you?” he added; ” 1 don’t know your face and you 
are not in the club livery?” 

‘‘ I, have been taken on extia, sir, to-ni{;ht, on account, of the 
dinner,” replied the waiter. He was a sedate, stolid-looking man, 
of middle age, with neatly trimmed gray whiskers, and no mus- 
tache. 

” 1 seem to know that fellow’s face,” casually observed the mar- 
quis. ” 1 wcnder where 1 have seen him before?” 

” In some of those haunts you frequent,” answered Meggitt, 
sulkily. 

And where 1 have often the pleasure of meeting you. But 
there, wdiat’s come over you? You are as surly as a bear this last 
day or two. Out with it, man; don’t brood; make a clean breast 
of it if there is an 5 'thing on your mind.” 

” There is a good deal, 1 can tell you. Things are going wrong, 
and we are running too great risks. You must draw in.” 

” "We will see. But be more explicit. What has happened?” 

‘‘ Those people — Baumgartner and Gr ttlieb, the wharfinger's — 
that is if there are such people, and it they are not men of straw, 
had better look out for squalls; they have barely escaped arrest as 
it is.” 

Just as Meggitt answered the waiter brought the brandies-aud- 
soda, and waited at the table adjoining while he took oirt the corks. 
The devill” cried the mtrquis, almost jumping to his feet, hut 
whether startled hy the announcement of this particular news, or 
the pop of the soda-water bottle, it was impossible to say. 

” What are you waiting for?” said the marquis, angrily, to the 
servant, who still stood by. 

” It’s two-and-sevenpence, sir,” replied the waiter, in a matter- 
of-fact way, as he looked at Meggitt, 

” Tell them to add it to my dinner bill. That will do — ” and 
the waiter departed. 

” 1 know what to do with Baumgartner and Gottlieb; you need 
not advise or lecture me. But is that all?” 

” By no means; nor is it the worst. You know Fleming & Co., 
of Manchester?” 

"Naturally. What of them?” 

" These bills were drawn by them,” said Meggitt, producing two 
long strips of tissue paper, “ and accepted by Rothschilds.” 

" Well, it’s all regular, is it not?” asked the marquis, as he 
turned over the bills in his hand. 


144 


FAST AKD LOOSE. 


“ Examine the indorsements. They are signed, you ■will find, 
tut no dates have been added." 

“ Caramba—ho-w extraordinary!" almost hissed the marquis be- 
neath his set teeth. ‘‘ Well, go on; how was this found out?” 

" By the discount clerk, young Driffield." 

The marquis whistled. 

" However, it’s all plain sailing enough now that we know ti e 
bills have not fallen into the wrong hands. 1 will keep them to- 
night, but you shall have them again the first thing in the morn- 
ing. One word more; this Driffield, who is he — a smart fe'low?" 

" On the contrary, he is rather a lout, unpunctual, and generally 
neglectful in his work. So much so that 1 have Mr. Dandy’s per- 
mission to send him away." 

‘‘ He had better not go. It may be dangerous to lose sight of 
him; get him kept on now, and he will be devoted to you for life. 
We don’t want this talked about; and a little word from you will 
no doubt stop his tongue.” 

1 think you are right," replied Meggitt; " the matter can easily 
be settled. But are you going?" 

" Yes, 1 have work to do to night, and it is, already late. Shall 
we walk down the street together?" 

Meggitt acquiesced, and they went into the hall to put on their 
great-coats, in which they were assisted by the same ■w’aiter who 
had served them in the smoking-room. 

‘‘ You understand," the marquis said, finally, " about this young 
Driffield. He must be kept on, and his silence secured.” 

" Yon can rely upon me for that. 1 shall continue to do my 
best, of course." 

"Y’ou had better, for your own sake," observed the marquis, 
coolly. "Not but what 1 will admit that you have shown con- 
siderable tact and prestnce of mind in this matter of the bills. As 
for Baumgartner and Gottlieb, the fools — But enough said. 1 
shall see you again early in the morning, when wo cun consult 
further.” 

"Yes; and there is the Waldos’ ball to-morrow night. 1 sup 
pose we shall meet there," added Meggitt, as the two passed out o:» 
the club portals. 

It was the last ball in Carlton Gardens. 

Another season, barren of results for the Waldo girls, was com- 
ing to an end, Clara had been foiled ih her attempt upon Mir 
Richard Daunt. ' 

Augusta, who had spread her toils for the marquis, had not pro- 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


14o 


gressed much further than her sister toward a settlement in life, 
lie made love to her, but in a bold, ardent fashion that frightened 
her. 

As for Helena, the best of the bunch, the course of true love did 
not run too smoothly for her, as we are aware. She saw Bob 
Surtees but rarely, and always by stealth. The future was black, 
iuileed. 

They did things well at the Waldos’. Their balls were especial- 
ly popular. Not only was the supper superb— no small considera- 
li on with some modern ball-goers— the music entrancing, the floor 
like glass, bitl peculiar facilities were o-fEered for flirtations and 
tender Ute-d-tetes. 

,The Waldo girls, old campaigners that they were, had devised 
a number of snug nests cunningly contrived for solitary couples 
that desired to withdraw' from the crowjd. It was from one of 
these that Meggitt, who had come late, heard proceeding a loud 
vigorous voice, which he immediately recognized. 

“ My dearest and best beloved, 1 will have it so,” 

‘‘Hush, Leon, do be more circumspect. Remember there are 
people withiu a few feet of us.” 

‘‘1 will say it in my native Spanish, Queridita de mi alma! 
flow long will yoit leave me to languish without hope of reward?” 

‘‘ Oh, Leon,” faltered the other, ‘‘ what can 1 say when you look 
at me like that? 1 feel that 1 am yours, wholly yours.” 

•‘Ihen why deny me your hand? Let me hold it here to my 
heart. You do not love me, Augusta.” 

‘‘ 1 do, do— fondly, passionately; but you are too hasty, and you 
ask too much. "When we are engaged — ” 

‘‘Till then,” cried the marquis, evasively, ‘‘1 will snatch this 
kiss, and this, and this — ” 

There were a faint scream,. a slight struggle, and a sound that 
could not be mistaken. Then Meggitt, by coughing loudly, and 
calling the marquis by name, imt an end to the pretty scene. 

‘‘ What is it? W^hy do you interrupt and intrude?” he asked, 
angrily. ‘‘ How long have. you been there?” 

‘‘ Half an hour or more,” replied Meggitt, with a meaning smile. 

‘‘ But tell me, aren’t you going rather far? Do you mean to marry 
the girl?” 

‘‘Why net? She is a dainty morsel— sweet, and clean, and 
wholesome, like all 3 ’our English girls. She pleases me — gieatly. ” 

‘‘ Suppose her father asks certain inconvenient questions when 
you propose? and what would Fanchette say?” 


146 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


/ 


Bah! Fanchette has chosen to la'ie herself ofi. She has broken 
with us, anti 1 don’t want to see her again.” 

“ It may be necessary, though, unless you are prepared to be 
betrayed. She is going to be married, 1 hear.” 

“ To whom?” inquired the marquis, fiercely. ” How have you 
heard?” 

” (Jarapata has sent over a message by a sure hand. As the man 
could not find you he came to me. That is what 1 want to tell 
you.” 

The marquis pondered for a moment, his forehead contracting, 
and his fierce eyebrows scowling darkly. 

“ Not here. Let us go down to the card-room, supper-ioom— 
anywhere, it necessary, away from the rest.” 

Just before they passed down-stairs Helena had gone into the 
supper-room, saying, 

“ Will some one give me a glass of lemonade? 1 want it carried 
upstairs.” 

” 1 beg your pardon, ma’am,” said one of the strange waiters 
coming up, *' Lemonade, 1 think you said?” 

There was a ring in his voice that sent a thrill through Helena, 
and she looked at the waiter hard,. 

“ Will you take it upstairs, please? It is for my father. 1 will 
show you the room,” and she led the way out of the supper-room. 

“Bot!” she cried, directly they were on the stairs, “how dare 
you? How wicked of you to run such risks! You could have 
seen me to-morrow—” 

” 1 didn’t come to see you at all,” replied Bob, coolly. 

‘‘How cruel of you, then! What is it? You know if you are 
found out it will be said that you came to see me. 1 am a wretched, 
unhappy girl.” 

And with that poor Helena began to cry. 

‘‘ Don’t be silly, darling,” said Bob, taking her hand, and trying 
to soothe her. ‘‘ 1 am only after those villains. 1 heard something 
last night, and now 1 have followed them here. There, there, 
don’t cry, darling,” he went on, in a soothing voice, using the 
stronger and more practical argument a lover has always at com- 
mand. 

‘‘ Do be quiet. Bob; do take care; some one is coming,” whis- 
pered Helena, as, blushing deeply, she disengaged herself from his 
embrace. 

The voices were heard approaching, and the next minute two 
men appeared descending the stairs. 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


147 


“ By Jove! they’ie iny two! I wondei whether they eaw?” cried 
Bob, as, surrendering the lemonade to Helena, he turned, and 
quickly regained the supper-room. 

" They’re a rum lot,” said MtggitI, ‘‘ these Waldo girls. I could 
have sworn that fellow was kissing Helena on the stairs! Didn’t 
you see? 1 wonder who the man was.” 

“ Mo foi, yes. But what is it to me? Come on; let’s have your 
news. It may he necessary to act without delay.” 

They entered the supper-room, and took their seats at a disen- 
gaged table not far from the counter, and close to a screen which 
hid the movements of the servants coming and going about the lift. 

” What does Carapata say?” 

“ Here is the letter.” It was a ditty scrap, with a few lines 
scrawled on in French, of which the following is a translation; 

“ Warning to the master. There are hawks abroad. Some 
stranger is desperately amourmx of Fanchette. He lives in the 
same house in the Rue du Bac, and 1 have seen them together like 
two turtle-doves in the Bois; narne, Joliau; professicn, rentier; 
age, uncertain; old, but well preserved,” 

The marquis read the foregoing attentively more than once; then 
bent his head upon his hand and thought. 

” Well?” asked Meggitt, anxiously. ” Suspicious, dcn’t you 
think?” 

” How can I tell, you fool, unless 1 know more? There may be 
nothing in it after all.” 

” How shall we find out?” 

“ There is only one way: 1 must go over to Paris and see for 
myself.” 

” Will it be safe for you to show there? Won’t the police be 
after you—” 

At that moment the marquis kicked Meggitt violently under tne 
fable, as a caution to be careful, and he heard the marquis say 
abruptly to a servant who was standing by, 

” What do you want? Can’t you leave two gentlemen discuss 
their private affairs without intrusion?” 

“ 1 was sent, my lord, to ask what you would take. There are 
soup, salmon mayonnaise, cliavdfroid, galantine d£ wlaille—^'' The 
waiter was glibly running over the items when the marquis inter- 
rupted hiui. 

“Are you one of Mr. Waldo’s servants? No? Only engaged 
tor the night? Where have 1 seen you before?” 


148 


fast and loose. 


“ At your lordship’s club, the Junior Belgrave, ray lord. 1 some- 
liraes go there to assist.” 

” 1 remember you now. You were there last night; and, what 
is more, you were given to the same trick of lisUning then. It 1 
only thought you were—” 

It was now Meggitt’s turn to interrupt. He gave the servant an 
order for supper, and with such intention that the marquis knew 
it was to get the man for a moment out of the way. 

“ It is a rum go. There is more in this than meets the eye. 
That’s the chap we saw kissing Helena on the stairs.” 

” 1 thought as much. Then he is nc waiter after all.” 

‘‘ Of course not. More; he can be only one person—” 

“ And that is—” 

Young Surtees. Don’t you know Surtees was always sweet 
on Helena Waldo? That would explain the scene on the stairs, 
and, in fact, his being here.” 

” Yes but not his being at the Junior Belgrave Club. He came 
there to spy cn us, as he has here. But I’ll be even with him, 
you’ll see.” 

“We must have no scandal in public. Remember where you 
are.” 

‘‘ I shall do nothing rash you may depend upon it, and nothing 
in this house. But when any one falls foul of me he had better 
take care. The father was in our way, and we removed him. 
“Now the son crosses our path; be must be scotched like a snake, or 
knocked on the head like a toad.” 

Soon after this ominous speech the marquis, without making any 
adieus, quietly left the house. The ball was still in full swing, 
and wculd last at least a couple of hours more. 

“ It is barely half past two. 1 can be back here in less than an 
hour.” 

He returned, as he expected, before half past three, just as the 
last carriages were rolling away from the awning-covered doer in 
Carlton Gardens. He was accompanied by two evil-looking ruffians, 
whom he had hunted up in Seven Dials. 

.‘‘We sha’ii’t have long to wait; cnly look out for the ‘ coppers,’ 
and keep your eye on me.” 

It was striking four when Hunter's men, the last to leave the 
house, came up the area stairs. There were halt a dozen of them, 
and among them ware Tummond and our friend Bob Surtees, the 
latter still disguised, and wearing an old gray overcoat anJ ‘‘ pot ” 
hat. He bade his late associates good-night — or rather ‘‘gaoU- 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


140 


morning,” for the dawn hart broken, and it was broad daylight— 
and walked alone toward (he steps below the Duke of York’s col- 
■umn. lie was on his way to the Pimlico lodging he still occupied, 
through the park. 

” That’s your roan, Y'ou know what to do; choose your own 
place,” said the marquis. 

Right you are, boss; we’ll quiet him, never fear;” and oue of 
them quickly shambled ahead under the houses, so as to overtake 
Rob ISurtees, while the other followed behind. 

'The park was almost deserted at this early hour; for the moment 
the policemen, its usual guardians, were nowhere to be seen There 
seemeel no protection for a passer-by nearer than the sentries at 
Buckingham Palace. 

“ Got a light, guv’nnr,” said the first ruffian, who had turned 
suddenly and met Bob Surtees as he approached. “No? Well, 
open your baccy-pouch and give us a chaw.” 

“ 1 have neither tobacco nor lights,” said Bob, shortly. “ Be 
off.” 

“ Not so fast, guv’nor. Any way, speak a chap civillj ; that 
won't cost you much. Give us a brown, then, to get a drain of 
soloop at the next stall.” 

“ I’ll give you nothing; stand out of my way, I say.” Big Bob 
drew himself up to his full height, and looked an ugly customer 
to tackle. 

But the second ruffian, who was following, came up suddenly, 
and before Bob was aware of his proximity attacked him from be- 
hind. A cloth, containing a sponge impregnated with chloroform, 
was thrown over Bob’s head, and he became unconscious after a 
very short struggle. 

All this took place near the roadway leading past Marlborough 
House in Pall Mall. 

Almost simultaneously a four-wheeled ca’u appeared, from which 
the marcjuis alighted quickly, saying: 

“ Now, sharp’s the word. Bundle him ini” 

Bob was put into the cab, the two rufflaas followed, and it was 
driven away toward Victoria Station. 

At that moment a policeman came round the corner, and the 
marquis immediately walked toward him. 

“ What’s up?” asked the guardian of the streets, motioning to 
lire rapi<lly retreating cab. , 

“Friend of mine,” said the marquis. ” Mops and brooms. Had 


150 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


to send him home in a cab; that’s all,, Been keeping it up rather 
late.” 

‘‘So have 1,” replied the hobby, laconically, ‘‘ all night long; 
and 1 wish 1 was between the sheets.” 

‘‘ Ah, I’m pretty sleepy, too. Well, we’ll soon be in bed now. 
Good-morning, and pleasant dreams,” and each went his own way. 

i 

i CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE MARQUIS IN PARIS. 

Fanchette leturned home very pensive and silent after her ren- 
counter with the rough in the Bois de Boulogne. M. Joliau tried 
to enliven her, and raise her spirits, but all to no purpose. She had 
had a shock, and was evidently sore afraid. 

For the next two or three days she remained invisible, and when, 
finally, she, appeared, she certainly looked weak and ill. 

‘‘ 1 am truly delighted.” said M. Joliau, on seeing her at the 
door of her little room at the back of the shop, as he was passing 
down-stairs. ‘‘ Truly delighted to see you out and about again, 
but madamc is still souf'rante, 1 fear.” 

‘‘ Monsieur is most sympathetic and kind. 1 wish 1 had more 
such friends.” 

‘‘Tou may rely on my devotion and discretion. 1 am wholly 
youis.” , 

‘‘ Oh. monsieur, 1 have been so wronged! and 1, the victim, have 
caused such grievous wrong to others— wrongs that 1 would gladly 
repair if 1 could.” 

‘‘.Why not at once unburden your heart? Tell mo all j'our 
trouble? What is it you have done?” 

‘‘ It was not my doing — at least, 1 yielded to the persuasions of 
the man I thought 1 loved. He is a villain. 1 have sacrificed 
everything to him, yet still he persecutes me, and 1 can not escape 
him.” 

‘‘ Surely you are alarming yourself unnecessarily. Remember 
the law can protect you.” 

‘‘ Not from himl” cried Fanchette, almost hysterically. ” Mon 
Dieu!” she cried, ‘‘what is that? That voice!” 

It came from a gentleman who at that moment was inquiring 
for Mme. Poirat in the shop, and whc the next minute walked, 
quite without ceremony, into the inner room. 


FAST AKD LOOSE. 


151 


“Leon! I knew it. What brings you here?” 

It was the marquis himself, dressed, as usual, with florid pre- 
cision in light-fitting frock-coat, and looking from the top of his 
shiny hal to the tips of his shiny boots, quite the nobleman— from 
Cuba. 

“ Tiens!" he began, in a mocking tone, “ 1 fear 1 am de irop. 
Pray tell me if 1 intrude. Who are you?” he went on, finding 
Fanchette could not bring herself to apeak. 

“ Pierre Joliair, at your service and madame’s, the honor of 
whose acquaintance 1 am proud to enjoy. Who, pray, are you?” 

“A much older friend of madame — Poirat? yes, Poiral — than 
3 ’ou, and one who has far more right to be here.” 

“ That 1 deny, and 1 appeal to madame herself.” 

“ 1 am her affianced husband,” coolly replied the marquis. 
“ How can your claim equal mine?” 

“Monsieur is my neighbor,” said Fanchette, speaking timidly 
and for the first time; “ he called merely to inquire alter my 
health.” 

“ And having had his answer he should hare retired.” 

M. Joliau took the hint, and rising from the chair, walked out. 

“ Who is that old fool?” the marquis asked, long before M. Jo- 
^iau was out of hearing, “ Has he asked you to marry him?” 

“ Not in so many words; but 1 have been long expecting him to 
propose.” 

“ And you would have accepted him? How about me?” 

•' 1 had no hopes of your keeping your promise,” said Fanchette, 
rather sadly. “ 1 have been disappointed again and again.” 

“Why did you leave London when 1 wished you to remain 
there?” 

“ There was nothing more to be done. 1 had served you as you 
wished. Why should 1 continue my hateful slavery with that 
horrible woman?” 

“ And you preferred Paris to London?” 

“ Paris and independence. And so would you, Leon. Listen to 
me. Why not settle down here? We might be so happy together, 
Leon. My business prospers; 1 am making money fast— honestly 
too. Give up all your great schemes, 1 beseech you. Think of 
the risks. You will be far happier in a quiet life.” 

The marquis sat there, thoughtfully, and without speaking tor a 
lime. 

“No,” he said at length; “ it is impossible. 1 can not with- 
draw yet; things are too complicated; tliere will be too much 


153 


PAST AKD LOOSE. 


danger in it; 1 mnst see them to the end. Besides, 1 can not live 
in Paris; -as you know, it is not sate for me. Even now 1 am risk- 
ing much in being here. But when 1 heard that this old tool was 
paying his addresses to you — when 1 thought that you were per- 
haps iorgetling me, 1 bravely set out, ready to face all dangers 
once more, to see you again.” 

So great was the influence ot this extraordinary man over Fan- 
chctte that she drank in with avidity those tender expressions, and 
believed them, every word. 

“ Ifou know, Leon,” she said, “you are mon Jiomme, my first 
and only love. While you are true to me 1 am ready to tollow you 
all over the world.” 

” lou will go back to England, then?” 

” Yes,” replied Fanchetle, a little doubtfully; ” but not irnder 
the same conditions as before. 1 am not to he in service, and in the 
same house where you sit at table with my masters, and make solt 
eyes at the master’s daughters, while I weep out my heart in a 
kitchen below.” 

‘‘No, you shall be a marchioness, at least as much as I am a 
marquis, 'rt’e will lake a villa somewhere in the country, or in the 
Isle ot Wight, and 1 shall only now and again visit town.” 

‘‘ When shall we he married?” asked Fanchette, rather anx- 
iously. ‘‘ Here, before we leave?” 

‘‘No, my child, it would not be safe for me to go before Mcn- 
sieur le Maire. Wail, till we get back to English soil; once there, 
1 promise you the knot shall at once be tied; meanwhile, let us go 
to breakfast— c7<eg Foyot— it is only a step. 


CHAPTER XXV. 
cakapata’s wabning. 

Daunt, let us drop his alias, now that he is about to act as him- 
self again, regained his apartment, somewhat chafed and disap- 
pointed at the sudden reappearance of the marquis, and the failure 
ot his plans. The only thing that consoled him was that the pres- 
ence of the marquis in Paris might lead to his identification by the 
French detective police. 

Daunt prepared to give ettect to this idea directly completing his 
toilet; he took bis hat and sallied forth, having left instructions 
with Madame Jobatd to keep an eye on Fanchette. 


FAST AXD LOOSE. 


153 


“ If they go out,” he said, ‘‘ she or the man, singly or together, 
follow them, and the hrst chance send woid to the Prefecture.” 

JMews came about noon. A note from Delphine to the chej de la 
Sureie. It was as follows: 

“ Left Rue du Bac at twelve. Are now at breakfast ehez Foyot, 
Rue Vaugiraud.” 

Accompanied by Daunt in another disguised Jobard took post 
opposite Foyol’s; but quite another half an hour elapsed before 
Faiichette and the marquis left the restaurant. 

They seemed to have no intention of returning to the Rue du 
Bac. Both had the self-satisfied, contented air of people who had 
breakfasted well. The marquis, with his coat thrown open, was 
enjoying a full-fiavored cigar; while Fanchette hung on his arm 
with a pleased simper on her face, as though this were happiness 
indeed. 

They passed together into the Luxembourg Gardens, and stayed 
there under the shade of the trees. 

Jobard followed, alone; Daunt could see him circling round and 
round, till presently he approached the same seat. There he took 
out a newspaper and composed himself to read. 

His proximity did not seem to disturb the marquis in the least, 
and the three sat there together, side by side, for quite half an 
hour. 

Daunt was wondering how long this waiting game would last, 
when a fresh turn was given to the adventure by the approach of a 
disreputable-looking ruffian, whom Daunt, as he passed, recognzied 
as the man who had spoken to Fanchette in the Bois de Boulogne. 
This man. mere seedy and miserable than ever, slouched up to 
where the marquis and the other.s were seated. 

‘‘What! Carapata? Here! What brings him. 1 wonder? He 
has perhaps something to say.” 

The fellow came closer, and seemed on the point of speaking to 
the marquis, when he suddenly halted, his jaw fell, he turned at 
once cn his heel, and walked qiriciily away. 

‘‘ Saperlotte, it is strange!” muttered the marquis between his 
teeth. ‘‘ What fly has slung liiin, 1 wonder? there must be danger 
near,” and with that he stole a furtive glauce at his companion cn 
the bench, a glance which M. Jobard bore with imperturbable self- 
possession. 

‘‘ Come, Fanchette, 1 must know what this means,” went on the 
marquis, as he rose and hurried after Carapata. A tew steps suf- 


154 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


ficed to overtake the other, but, as they came alongside, Carapata 
said, excitedly. 

“ Don’t speiik to me. Pass on; there is danger; la rousse." 

“ Where Y Wlien?” asked the marquis, as he passed. 

“ There! there! on the bench, by your very side, it was Le Ma- 
jor Jobarfl had served and earned a grade of drum-major in a 
regiment of the line—" Le Major, M. Jobard, one of the cleverest 
from the cuisine (Prefecture).’’ 

" Where can 1 see you? Come to the UUne of Pfere Barabas to- 
night at twelve.’’ And without waiting for an answer the marquis 
and Fanchette walked quickly to the nearest cab station, then, 
taking there a jiaere, were driven rapidly away. 

While this little episode was in progress Jobard had made a sign 
to Daunt, who came near. 

" Well,’’ asked Daunt, uneasily, " what success?” 

" Not much, but still something. 1 don’t know the man him- 
self, but 1 do his friend— one of the worst ruffians that ever haunt- 
ed the barriers. We shall, 1 hope, get at what we want through 
him.” 

" 1 have seen tbe fellow before,” said Daunt; " it was he who 
was watching Fanchette, as 1 told you, in the Bois„ and no doubt 
acting rrnder orders from the other.” ' ' 

" Precisely; and that other must be a criminal of some mark to 
secure the services of such a thorough-paced scoundrel as this. But 
we will get Carapata on our side.” 

" How?” 

" 1 shall have him arrested within half an hour. 1 know he is" 
suspected ot complicity in those robberies on the Seine. He is one 
of that band, and we have only hesitated to lay our hands upon him 
because we wanted to entrap them all at one coup." 

" Well, but when you have arrested him, how much nearer shall 
we be to unmasking our friend the marquis?” 

" 1 know this Carapata; he has played fa before now. 1 

have used him as a spy at Mazas, and now, after he has been a 
few hours in the depGt of the Prefecture, he will gladly let out the 
whole story on a promise of being set free.” 

“ But you have not got him yet?” 

*' That’s an easy matter; he is not yet out of sight. Let us walk 
a little faster, monsieur, and you can assist at the arrest.” 

A few minutes more and they hud overtaken the royou. Daunt, 
APting u»dei Jobard’^ instructions, placed himself on one side of 


iPAST AND LOOSE. 


155 


Carapata, Jobard himself langing upon the olbei. Two ordinary 
uergents de mile, at a signal from Jobard, followed close behind. 

“Resistance is useless,” whispered the latter; “ we are tour to 
one. Tou had better come quietly. Walk on without paying 
any attention until 1 can gtt vl fiacre.” 

Very soon afterward the detective hailed a passing cab, into 
which Daunt got first, Catapala followed, and Jobard brought up 
the rear. The moment the door wms shut the prisoner w'as made 
safe by means of the ligotte, or narrow cord, used instead of hand- 
cufis by the French police, and the whole party went to the depot 
of the Prefecture. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

VIA CIIERBOmG. 

Carapata maintained a sullen silence after his arrest. He was 
placed au secret, in a solilary cell of the Prefecture that is to say, 
and interrogated by Jebard, and, indeed, by the c7^^ himself, but 
he would make no disclosures with reference to the mysterious man 
of the Luxembourg Gardens. Carapata would not even allow that 
he had seen any such man at all. 

“ By and by, perhaps, he will change his tune,” said M. Acme, 
confidently. “ He will yet tell us all we want to know.” 

“ What do you propose, monsieur?” 

“ Turn Carapata into the general prison, and throw him into the 
w'ay of a particular friend. That friend we will release later on 
and follow. He will go straight to our man outside, you will see.” 

“1 understand,” said M. Jobard, with a look of admiration at 
his chief. 

For the moment the police had lost sight of the marij[uia, or M. 
Leon, as 1 shall call him from henceforth. But they counted on 
his returning later in the day to the Rue du Bac; and Daunt was in- 
trusted with the task of watching their movements there. Being 
at home in the house he could do this well, and without arousing 
suspicion. Accordingly the respectable JH. Joliau once more ap- 
peared at the hair dresser’s, and politely inquired tor la patronne. 

Madame had gone out for the whole day, M. Maxime, the heart- 
assistant in the shop, totd him. She had given herself a holiday. 
A dear relative had arrived from far, and they were making a little 
fUe. 

Daunt, satisfied, went up to his own apartment. It was not till 
evening that he felt a little at luull. 


156 


PAST AND LOOSE. 


Five, six, seven came and went, and still there was no sign ot 
the pair. Whai had become ot them? Sir Richard telt it was 
right to let them know at the Prefecture that neither Panchette nor 
M. Leon had reappeared. 

The tact was the latter wished to avoid the Rue du Bac. He 
had been greatly unsettled by what had occurred that morning, and 
already dreaded from Carapata’s warning the officious attentions ot 
the French police. Had he followed his first impulse he would 
have left Paris there and then. 

But when the first alarm had passed less cautious counsels pre 
vailed. He could not tear himself away all at once from the flesh- 
pots, from the grosser aud more material delights cf Paris. 

The day’s amusement only ended with the day itself, and it was 
nearly midnight \vhen Panchette regained her home. But Fan- 
chette was alone, Mme. Jobard said, on her return; there could he 
no doubt of that. What, then, had become of her companion? 

The tact was, M. Leon’s anxielies hail increased as the night 
drew on ; he felt more strongly than ever that it would be unsafe to 
show at the Rue du Bac. Besides, he had his appointment to keep 
with Carapata at the cabaret of Pfere Barabas, in the Place Mauhert. 
It was ot vital importance to hear what the voyou had to say. 

Driving to the neighborhood of what was once the palace of La 
Reine Blanche, and is now the lowest quauer ot Paris, M. Leon 
threaded its intricacies with the assurance of one who knew the 
place by heart. 

Pfire Barabas, the landlord cf the most disreputable cabaret in 
that disreputable quarter, eyed his visitor askance as he entered, but 
a word in his ear soon converted surprise into obsequious atten- 
tion. 

“ Carapata? Where is he?” asked Leon, quickly and peremp- 
torily. 

“ He is irot here, monsieur,” replied the landlord. “ 1 have not 
seen him to-night.” 

” Nor won’t,” remarked another ruffian of the same stamp as 
the absentee. ” He can’t come. ’ 

” Whatl” interrupted M. Leon. “Is that you, Gros Chgne? 
Where is Carapata?” 

"Emballe! They brought him to the depot just before 1 got 
awa3^” 

“ When? On what charge? Did he tell you? Did you have 
any talk?” 

“YfcS; for a minute or two He caiiie out into our big room. 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


157 


and we soon got together. lie asked if 1 knew of any zig who was 
to be free that afternoon, and who could take you a message. I said 
1 could find some one, and, as good luck fell out, they put nuc my- 
self the right side of the door soon afterward. Insufficient proofs. 
I didn’t want to sta}'; and here you have me ready to drink your 
heallh. ” 

“ 1 don’t like the look of it,” said M. Leon, musingly. The 
sudden arrest had increased his misgivings; and why had they set 
tliis Gros Chgne free? Had they overheard the question asked by 
Carapata, and were resolved to follow liis messenger? 

‘‘ But why not release Carapata himself?” asked the marquis, 
thinking aloud. 

They want him too badly. He is one of Mimi Brule Gueule’s 
band. Ihere was nothing against me.” 

“Ii’s a ruse, I’m pretty sure. They wished to ” (follow) 
“ Gros ChSne, and see if he joined me.” 

That Leon or the marquis was right in this conjecture he soon 
had practicai proof. 

Just as he was preparing to leave the cabaret a ragged young 
gamin, with active motions and the quick, restless eyes of the 
Parisian street Arab, ran in with the warning: 

” La Bousse! The police.” 

He had detected the approach of a suspicious little party of the 
sportsmen — the hunters, alike hated and feared — tc whom the fre- 
quenters of the Place Maubert were perpetual game. 

“ It is as 1 thought,” said Leon, an evil look coming over his 
face. “ But they shall not take me easily. Let them look out tor 
themselves.” 

Even as he spoke in walked M. Jobard. 

Dead silence fell upon the whole assemblage. P^ie Barabas only 
bowed low, and waited for the orders of the representative of the 
law. 

M. Jobard looked round curiously, and examined every face. 
Then, addressing the marquis, he said: 

‘‘ A strange place, monsieur, for a gentleman, or, at least, for 
one so well dressed as yourself. May 1 ask for your name and 
domicile, and papers if you have them about you?” 

” 1 am an Englishman. 1 need no passport. You dare not 
touch me. 1 shall appeal to cur embassador.” 

” You speak very excellent French, monsieur. 1 wonder where 
you learned itl Hero, Antoine—” this was to one of his assistants 


158 


F^ST AND LOOSE. 


■who had remained outside, *' step in and see whether you have 
seen this gentleman before.” 

M, Jobaid turned as he spoke, and gave the marquis his vippor- 
tunity. With one bound the latter dashed past the police, dealing 
Jobard a blow with one fist that nearly brought him to the ground, 
and with the other striking Antoine from his path. 

Next instant the marquis was running lor dear life down the 
Rue des Anglais, formerly the Rue des Crimes. 

” Give chase!” cried Jobard, frantically, as soon as he recovered 
himself. ” The scoundrel must not escape us like this. He has 
assaulted the police. Come on, Antoine; do you know him?” 

” 1 am' not certain.” gasped the other, as he, with the whole 
posse, pressed on at the heels of the now rapidly disappearing tugl- 
tlve. ‘‘ But for his dark hair and beard, both of which may be 
false, 1 should say it was Leon Lantim6che, alias Tue T6te, the 
format.” 

‘‘Whoever it is we’ll have him for the assault. They’ll soon 
hunt up his dossier ” (antecedents)!** at the Prefecture, and he may 
look out for squalls.” 

But to catch M. Leon was not so easy. He ran like a greyhound 
and he doubled like a haie. He knew every street, every alley, 
every turn, as well as, if not better than, his pursuers, and after 
half an hour at top steed he had forged so far ahead that the chase 
was practically at an end. 

** He shall not escape us, though,” said Jobard, in high dudgeon 
at being outwitted and outrun, as he reluctantly abandoned the 
chase. 

Leon, as saon as he had distanced his pursuers, paused to take 
breath. He had tc c( nsider what he would do next. How was he 
to escape from Paris, that rat-trap into which he had so rashly 
ventured? He was a man of many resources, fertile itr expedients, 
quick to devise and execute a plan. He weighed all his chances as 
he walked rapidly along, and soon came to a decisioH. He would 
start on his journey back tu England that very night, leaving 
Fanchette to join him en route, or follow, as circumstances would 
permit. 

It would, of course, be necessary to communicate with her, and 
his first care was to do that safely, and without compromising him- 
self. 

The best plan, then, would be to write to her a prudently worded 
letter. He must contrive to get it into Fanchette’s hands early 
hex! merning, and, if possible, unobserved, 


if A ST AND LOOSE. 


159 


lie had selected as bis teu'porary residence one of the grandest 
and most frequented hotels in Paris, well knowing that there he 
would be the least exposed to the inquisitiveness of oflBc.ial or 
other busy bodies. Mr. Herbert Vivian, a well-to-do English gen- 
tleman, as he had called himself on arriving, traveling for his 
pleasure, was not likely to attract the attention of the police. 

Returning there, he wrote as follows: 

“ Dear Madam, — It is with infinite distress that 1 have to com- 
municate to you that our dear Aunt Angelique lies at the point of 
death. 1 have heard this evening from our cousin Anna that our 
revered relative is not expected to survive to-morrew. Arrange- 
ments have been made to administer to her the last sacraments of 
the Church, and it is her earnest desire that as many as possible of 
her sorrowing relatives should be present on this sad and solemn 
occasion. I propose, therefore, to hasten to Mantes at an early hour 
to morrow, and shall deem myself fortunate if you are able to 
accompany me. There is a rapid train which leaves the Quest 
station at ten minutes to nine. You should on no account neglect 
to take this— -it is the only one to serve our purpose. Friends will 
be waiting the arrival of the train at Mantes. 1 count upon the 
pleasure of seeing you. As you may have to remain till alter the 
funeral it is as well that you should be prepared to leave your 
establishment in the charge of Maxime. 

“ Your attached cousin, 

“Victor Villars.” 

Havrug completed the foregoing, Leon took out his watch and 
saw that it was halt past one. His next business was to arrange 
for the secure delivery cf the letter. 

“ How early can this letter bo taken to its address?” he asked of 
the head-waiter. 

“ 11 monsieur likes 1 could lake it myself when 1 gc oil duty 
at six." 

“ The letter must be delivered as soon as possible after six, and 
without attracting attention. Here, then, are five francs. 1 will 
add in the letter that yon are to have as many more if you deliver 
it as 1 say.” 

The matter disposed of, Leon went upstairs to his bedroom and 
hastily changed his clothes. He had been wearing a frock-coat 
and tall hat all day, but now ho substituted a traveling suit and a 
soft wide-awake; then, carefully packing and locking his port- 
manteau, he went down, and again left the hotel. 

The clocks were striking two as he walked down the now nearly 
deserted boulevard toward the Madeleine. It was a beautiful, 
brilliant summer’s night, fine and warm. 


160 


PAST AND LOOSE. 


“ What shall 1 do—drive or walk? 1 can get no train at this 
lime of night, and I must not -risk leaving Paris till the morning. 
1 shall be moie independent, perhaps, it 1 go on foot.’' And, hav- 
ing thus settled it, M. Leon S2t himself bravely to his task. 

His way lay by Neuilly. There he crossed the rivei and made 
for Courbevoie. A mile beyond he crossed the railway and rhade 
for Besons, and there, having again passed the river, he regained 
the line at Houilles. 

“ So far so good,’’ he said to himsell; “ the first train is due 
here about seven; 1 will wait for it, then go as far as Poissy and 
take fresh tickets through to Cherbourg ter the two of us. That 
will throw them ofl the scent if they think of tracking us on from 
Mantes. The only point will be to attract Fanchette’s attention 
at Poissy, as she will not expect to see me before Mantes.’’ 

He effected this by standing prominently at the glass doer cf 
the salU d’attente as the Cherbourg express came in. He w'as 
the only passenger, and Fanchelte, who had seen him plainly, 
was looking out of the window of a second-class carriage as he 
came on the platform. 

“ All right,’’ he said. “ Look out for me at Mantes.’’ 

There he came and fetched her. 

“■ 1 have tickets for Clierhourg, first-class. Come, let us change.’’ 

7'hey walked along the train looking for seats, and entered a car- 
riage occupied by three young men, Englishmen evidently, all in 
suits of gray dittoes, with the rather rubicund self-satisfied air of 
the Briton who had been seeing life. 

They scowled after the manner of exclusive Englishmen at M. 
Leon and Fanchelte, as though they wished them at Jericho, and 
seemed altogether disconcerted anit put out by the intrusion. 

They had been playing dummy whist, and did not at first like 
to go on with their game. 

After a good deal of whispering and nudging, one of them ob- 
served at last in the best Anglo French: 

“ Monsieur, wus n'amz pas objection, fesphe,” and he produced 
a pack of cards. 

“ On the contrary,’’ replied M. Leon, in excellent English. “ 1 
am very partial to cards myself. What are you playing?” 

“ Duiiirny w'hist. Will you make a fourth?” asked the first 
speaker, a florid, overgrown youth, who might have been articled 
clerk to a betting- man. 

"With all my heart, if my wife will let rqe,” answered Leon, 
With ^ laugh at f anchette. 


FAST AKD LOOSE. 


161 


iJext uiiiiule the cards were dealt, and they were deep in the game. 
It was a curious same. No one seemed to have much notion of 
whist, Leon least of all. But his opponents held excellent cards, 
and before tliey reached Lisieux he had lost three rubbers. 

The game went on steadily all the rest of the day. They changed 
partners again and again, but Leoti was always a loser. All the 
points were low. Ho must have been at least ten or twelve pounds 
to the bad. 

“ 1 shall have no chance of my revenge,” said Leon, gayly. 
We are close to Ctierbourg, and we may never meet again.” 
“Cherbourg? How quickly the time has flown. But perhaps 
you are going over in the boat, sir?” asked the fat youth. 

“ 1 am. Are you? Yes?— then we can continue the game on 
board. You must give me my revenge.” 

“The idiots; the asses; the double-dyed fools,” said M. Leon, 
with the deepest scorn, to Fanchette, as they were changing from 
the train to the steamer. “ To try and fool mel 1, who know every 
trick in the trade! They shall have their revenge with a vengeance! 
Listen, Fanchette.” And he hastily whispered a few instructions 
in her ears. 

Gambling was forbidden on board the Cherbourg and Weymouth 
boat, but it was not easy to check the practice. Leon and his new 
friends got into a quiet corner at the far end of the saloon, and 
there continued their play. 

Suddenly one sprung up, and, with a flerce oath cried, “ You 
sharper, you cheat, you beggarly, rascally, swindling French for- 
eigner! I’ve caught you in the act.” 

The others had risen at the first word, and tried hard to pacify 
their friend. 

“ Don’t you see, you fools? All this while that we’ve been 
cursing our luck he has been correcting his fortune. He faces 
that glass there, and his wife, who sits just behind two of you, 
has been signaling to him what cards you held. That’s why he 
never doubled when to play or take ‘ miss.’ ” 

“ It’s false, you cur! How dare you accuse your betters of foul 
play? Apologize, or I’ll lake it out of you. Apologize, 1 say, or 
I’ll— ” And M. Leon advanced threateningly. 

“ What will you do? Lay a finger on me, you low French vil- 
lain, you filthy spawn—” 

Next instant Leon had him by the throat; there was a short 
struggle, and the Englishman, before his friends could interpose, 

was thrown heavily to the ground. 

6 


102 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


VVben the two were separated il was found that the Englishman 
was insensible, and seemed very badly hurt. The news ot the dis- 
turbance spread rapidly through the steamer; other passengers 
came crowding into the saloon; then the captain and one of his 
mates appeared, and after a short colloquy with the Englishmen 
they fell foul of M. Leon. 

The end ot it all wasj that, on the arrival of the boat at W ey- 
mouth, Leon was given into custody on a charge of card-sharping 
coup’ed with a murderous assault. 

Fanchette was also arrested as an accomplice; and thus the two, 
in escaping the French, fell intc the clutches of tiro English police, 
or out of the frying-pan into the lire. 


CHAPTER XXVll. 

IN THE PLACE MAUBEKT. 

It is time to let the reader know how Percy Meggitt first be- 
came acquainted with Leon LautimSche, alias Tue T6te, alias 
French Joe, alias the Marquis de Ojo Verde. 

One evening in early April, at Easter in fact, there was an un- 
usual crowd in the cabaret of P^ie Barabas in the Place Maubert. 

At one ot these tables a little removed from the rest a man sat 
altogether alone. 

A remarkable-looking man in his way, with a hungry, wolfish 
face, having fierce dark eyes and reddish hair. 

While he sat there, slowly sipping his beer, utterly regardless of- 
the turmoil around, there fell upon his ear a sound which suddenly 
roused him to attention. 

It was an Eriglishman speaking, as the majority of Englishmen 
do, the French of Stratford-atte Bow. What had brought so 
unusvial a visitor to this essentially French haunt? 

Next minute the man himself entered, accompanied by a small 
number ot friends. He looked a Brrtou every iuch ot him, almost 
of the conventional type. His companions were three in number, 
voyous all of them, evidently habitues of the place, anxious to 
show it ofl: and do the honors. They introduced their English 
friend to P6re Barabas, and invited him to swallow a coup. 

Meanwliile, half audible remarks passed around the room. W here 
had Gros C)r6ne, Pince Nez, and Carapata picked up this Poivreau, 
this Pierrot, this soft-headed simpleton, who had stepped in there 
like a fowl to be plucked, perhaps killed in the end? 


FAST AXD LOOSE. 


103 


Our reil-liairutl fiieiul, after the fiisl suij)tise. remaiiud impas- 
sive, scarce’y nolieiui; what was goiug on. T'lie landloid, address- 
iug him as Al. Leon, liad whispirod a tew words to him on the dis- 
appearance ot tire part}’ into an iuiKa' mlon, Imt M. Leon had only 
shake n his head and shrugged his shoulders in rejily. 

lie clearly saw no riason to interfere. 

The Englishman might be left to his fait. ‘‘ Qtte diable allait il 
faire duns cctie galere?" 

All at once a sudden commotion arose inside. 

Loud voices speaking hastily anil in atrger were followed by 
sounds of a struggle, the overthrow of the table, the breaking ot 
glass, and, last ot all, a distinct heavy thud — the fall of a body on 
the floor, 

M. l.eon, who, from his place near the curtain, as I have said, 
could hear belter than the other, got up from his seat, lifted the 
green baize curtain, and passed into the inner room. 

Inside he found the Englishman with his liack to the wall, keep- 
ing two assailants at bay with an uplifted chair ; at his fe'ct lay a 
third, I’lnce Nez, prostia'e. 

“ What’s all thisf” said M. Leon, in French, in a voice ot 
authority, inler/rositrg iHtwet'n the combataiit.s. I'lteu he added in 
English, abruptly, “ Put that chair down. I’ll see you out ot this. ’ 

This diversion only further e.\asperated the Frenehmin, who 
were ou the point of tailing foul ot M, Lcou wheu he spoke still 
louder, in thieves’ argot: 

“ Le Gros Chene! Caiapata! Don’t you know nreV” 

“ Txulieu !” cried both in haste. “ It is our dahe (muster).” 

” It is 1, as you see. What has this Englishman done? Let him 
pass,” 

” Done! lie has cheated us, tricked us, us who are the most 
honorable p’ayers in all Europe. The ganre was fair until just 
now, when — ” and Gros Ch6ue poured forth a torrent of words to 
show how the simple Englishnian had attempted to betool them. 

‘‘ Wheu Greek mei ts Greek,” said M. Leon, with a half smile. 

” Put there, no more. Lei us pass.” 

” Ceme on, sir,” M. Leon crieii rather sharply lo the Engli.sh- 
man, “these gentlemen will not detain you further.” 

And M Leon, or M. Leon Laulimechc, lo state his name in full, 
passed out into the common lap-room with his protege, whom he 
hustled with very scant ceremony into a fiacre at ihe door, lakip^ 
};is seat beside lijii*. 


1G4 


FAST A^D I.OOSF. 


• • 1 


“ Where do you lolge?” be asked, prescnlly, as the picre merged 
upon the 0,uai Voltaire. 

“ Hotel des Danube ct Amsterdam, Rue des Rons Eiifiiuls. 1 
think I sliould like to go straight home,” faid the Englishman. 

“Naturally; the night has been exciting, and full of events. 1 
am hath tc keep its unpleasant memories alive, and yet 1 should be 
glad to know how you gravitated toward the Place Alaubert.” 

“ They said they would show me life— the lift of Paris which 
no one sees. 1 met them in the fur-coat in the Cafe de la Fontaine. 
We went to the Salle Valentino and the hal at Rullier’s. Then 
they asked me if 1 would like to go the rounds of Paris, to thieves’ 
lodging-hcuses, and places unknown to strangers, and that’s how I 
found myself in the Place Maubert. ” 

“ 1 flunk you may congratulate yourself that 1 was there too,” 
said M Leon, quietly. “ Alonsieur— ” 

“ Meggilt, Percy Mecgitt, cf Waldo’s, Mincing Lane. Allow 
me to say at once that 1 am extremely obliged to yr u, and if you 
will call to morrow at my hotel 1 shall be glad to offer you some 
more substantial mark of my gratitude.” 

“ Monsieur Meggitt, a man of my stamp does not accept rewards 
for doing what is right,” said M. Leon, with dignity. “ 1 am more 
than repaid alreaily,” he added, touching the region of his right 
breast-pocket. 

The gesiitre conveyed the idea that he glorieti in an honest 
heart; birt, with a fine irony, that was lost on Meggilt, he really 
meant that he had helped himself to the Englishman's purse, by 
pickitrg his pocket as he hustled him into the cab. 

Mr. Meggitt did not discover the theft till he got out and prepared 
to pay the fate. 

“ 1 have been robbed,” lie cried, in mingled rage anil consterna- 
tion, “ My pocket-book is gone; 1 would not have lost it for 
worlds, and 1 can not pay the fiacre.” 

“ Do not distress yourselt, mousieitr. 1 will do that for you. In- 
deed,” he adden. sotto wee, “ it is the least 1 can do. So good- 
night, and good-b 3 'e, monsieur.” 

His first step when quite alone was to take out the EnglLsliman's 
pocket-book and thoroughly overhaul its contents. 

lie looked first for cash, and found several napoleons, also an 
English sovereigrr or two. There was besides a letter of credit or 
circular note for £50, payable at Messrs. John Arliuir’s. 

“ Fourte n hundred francs! Assez bon U mayut ! What tlse 
Jrave we? Papers, leUers, notes of litllq afigirs. 4 map of nictfiod, 


FART AKD LOOSE. IGo 

this Mr. Megjritt, and business-like, but perhaps a little impru- 
dent. Too much detail, mon cher monsieur,'' he centl\' whispered, 
as he lead a tew of the papers. “ Why write all these things 
down? See what comes ot it. You lose j’our purse, 1 pick it up; 
it becomes mine— niine with all it contains. Your little secrets, 
j’our private habits, pleasuies, and ways of life — not so very honest 
and reputable I fear — 1 know' lliem all. Ah, Monsieur Meggitt, 
this is a precious pocket bonk to j'ou. Now I can understand why 
you were so disheartened at losing it. You shall have it liack, 
mmi cher. 1 wid restore it to you by and by, and claim my re- 
w’aid.” 

7 lie loss of that pocket-tiook pul Meggilt completely in his power. 
It placed the assistant-cashier <ntiiely at the mercy of a much big- 
ger rogue. From that night in the Place Maubeit dated a close 
confederacy between two villains, and a series of financial opera- 
tions, which, from their first inception through all their artful and 
intricate ramifications, deeply afTected the principal personages in 
this vciacious story. 


CHAPTER XXV 111. 
leon’s i.uck. 

W’e left Leon and Fanchette in the hands of the police at We^'- 
mouth, arrested on a charge of caid-sliarping on board the Cher- 
bourg lioat. 

Nothing could be made out ot Leon. "Wbeie had lie come fiom? 
Whither was he going? Who was tins woman? his wife? What 
was his name? 

All that he would acknowhdge was that his name was George. 

'* George what?” they asked him. 

” George George.” 

‘‘ Anil madame’s name?” 

” The same?” 

The evicii nee against both was sufficient to justify their commit- 
ment to tlie county jail at Dorchester for tiial at the next quarter 
sessions. 

En route Lion repeated his caution to Fanchette. 

‘‘ Not a word, remember; you know no English, no more do 1. 
Our n-ame is George.” 

” Oh, Lfcon!” she .said, ‘‘ what fresh trouble is in store for us? 
Ever since we first imt— Loon — !” 


160 


1?AST AND LOOSE. 


“ Tais toi," replied tlie other, sternly. “ They are walchin!: us." 

The arrival of such well dressed, distinguished-looking prison- 
ers— foreigners, loo— caused quite a sensation in Dovchestter Jail. 

“ He isn’t what he niaUes himselt tut, that’s perfectly plain,” 
the governor insisted. ‘‘There's some mystery about him, I’m 
sure; wthy the silver cigarette-case has a coronet on it, and st* has 
his watch, and his wife’s diamonds — ” 

‘‘ Is she his wife, do you think?” asked the chaplain, incliued to 
be uncharitable. 

” You’d better ask him, 1 dcn’l speak French.” 

‘‘No more do 1. We’ll ask Father D’Arcy ” — this was the 
Roman Catholic priest attached to the prison—” he w’as at J?t. 
Omer, 1 believe.” 

But Father D’Arcy eould not help much. 

” The fellow won’t talk to me. When I asked him his name he 
persisted in saying it was George. But 1 feel sure he is some f Is 
de fdmille, some man of good family who wants to preserve an in- 
cognito. ’ ’ 

” That’s what 1 say,” declared the governor. 

” 1 think he’s a humbug,” said the chaplain. ” no more a French- 
man than 1 am. Frohably has previous convictions against him, 
and is trying to escape recognition. Have you sent round any 
inquiry to other prisons, and to the police? lie ought to be pho- 
tographed.” 

But this was an indignity to which Leon would not submit. He 
refused, tor reasons of his own, to be phetographed, and, being 
still unconvicted, no coercion could be employed to make him sit. 

Force being forbidden, stratagem was tried, anit witli success. 
Ijeon took his exercise daily in the prison-yard, upon which many 
of the f.rison cells looked. As the prisoner was w'alking round one 
morning he was ” halted ” suddenly, while the governor entered 
and asked him if he had any complaints. 

At this moment Leon was standing opposite one of the cell-win- 
dows on the ground-floor. The window of this cell had been taken 
out, and the lens cf a camera w'as fitted just into the aperture. 

Leon thus was photographed unawares; an excellent likeness 
w’as pr inted oft and circulated, with the officiaT inquiry-form, by the 
prison authorities. 

Meanwhile the time for quarter sessions arrived, and Leon awaited 
his trial wdlh marked impatience and anxiety. 

‘‘Ik’s always bothering about something,” said the priest one 


Past akT) toosr:. 


icr 

da}’, wlia had come to be Leon’s regular interpreter. Besides, Leon 
x'laimed to be one of bis flock. 

“ ■\Vhat does lie want now?” asked Captain Scroob}', the gov- 
ernor. 

” To be allowed to have a hair-dresser in from the town.” 

The governor, after much hesitation, consented, and a hair-dress- 
er was sent tor. 

The outsider came once, Iwice, three times, but on the last occa 
siem tlie governor, whose suspicions hail been aroused by these f re- 
fluent visits, had the man stopped at the gate and searched. 

On the man’s thud visit two bottles containing a dark fluid were 
found on hirc. 

“Spirits,” said the gate porter, a sfntentious old man, “ col- 
ored brown.” 

“Poison!” cried Captain ScrooI) 3 '; “send for the surgeon; wo 
don’t want any' suicides here. Lucky' we found it out. You scoun- 
drel ” — this to the barber — “ how dare yen tiring it in?” 

“ It’s only hair-dye, captain, J do assure you. lie did so beg 
and pray—” 

“ What, in French? Do you understand that lingo!” 

“ Well, sir, not much, but he made signs, and, as l.is hair was 
turning lighter, 1 soon made out his meaning.” 

“ His hair turning color?” cried the governof, “ then there is a 
mystery in the man, and a bigger one than we thought; but 1 
think we have the clew. This explains the answer from Chatham 
Prison.” 

A reply had come from that well known convict establishment 
to the effect that the photograph forwarded with the inqiiiry-fornr 
of a prisoner in custody at Dorchester .lail would have been recog- 
nized as that of a man .lo.seph Dev.as. released a year or more on 
licket-of-leave, but that there was a discrepancy in the description 
given. 

As recorded in the prison-books at Chatham the prisoner’s hair 
was red, a deep strong red ; in the descriplinti received from Dor- 
chester Jail the hair was given as jet black. 

The value of Leon’s hair-dy'c was in fact evaporating, and he 
had endeavored to renew tlie appl cation. Ho had won over the 
liair-dresscr by offering him £5. He wrote it dins on a piece of the 
paper provided to help him in jiu paring liis defense, and the money 
was to be paid after the trial. 

But, as we have seen, the attempt failed, and, in the few days 


Past and looSP. 


IfjS 

stiU intervening between the sessions, Leon’s hair bad reverted to 
its original and natural color. 

Tlie trial was not a long attair. The case was clear against the 
male prisoner, Geoige, and the Avitnesses unanimous in their evi- 
dence. He was iound guilty on the lesser count, and prepared hini- 
selt to face the worst- a f-hort imprisonment on a charge of card- 
sharping; two or three months, the bench wouhl hardly give liim 
more. 

Great was his surprise, then, Avhen the chairman, prior to passing 
sentence, asked the usual queslions: Was anything known against 
the prisoner ? were there any previous conviction*.? and so forih. 

“ Fottr previous convidions, sir,” said the clerk, reatling oft a 
paper; and the remark made Loon start. A close ob*erver woi-ld 
have seen now that the prisoner’s pretended ignorance of English 
was assumed. 

“ He was convicted at Hitll in ISCo of fraud and embezzlement, 
and sentenced to six calendar mouths; at Liverpool, in 1867, of 
turf frauds, twelve rrrontbs; at Leeds Assizes in 1860 for swiuilltug 
and car J-shat [ting, three mouths; and rd the Cenital Criminal 
Court in 1870 tor forgery, and sentenced to seven years’ penal serv- 
itude.” 

Leon’s face had grown ghastly pale. 

” Under what names?” asked the chairman. 

” fie was known first as Devas— Joscqih Devas. Tliat’s supprsed 
to be his real name. But he has many aliases— f-’liiladelphia Jdc, 
I tench .Toe. lire IMarqitis, Leon Lantimeche, etc. He is said to have 
undergone several imprisonments abroad, chiefly in France, and to 
be well known to the French [tolice.” 

” Who speaks *.o the previous convictions?” • 

” An officer from Chatham— priucipf.l warder Boag.” 

The warder, a tall, straight, conimanding lookirig man in a blue 
uniform, stepired into the Avitness-1 ox, and gave his statement in a 
short business like manner, 

“ 1 identity the prisener as Joseph Devas, x 79,837; received at 
Clratliam Convict Prison on the 3d January, 1871, and released ou 
license ou th- 20!li of Mutch, 1875.” 

” He is a ticket of-leave man then?” asked the bench. 

” Yes, sir, witii one ye.r’s sentence still uuexpiied ” 

” But if his license is revoked, as it assuredly must he, he must 
do what remained when he was let out, I think. Is not that so 
Mr. Wassell?” 

The clerk indorsed the chairman’s view. 


FAST AXD LOOSE. 


IGO 


“ Then 1 shall deal leniently « jlh the prisoner in (he present 
case. He will have si.\ mouths’ imptisounienl, to commence at 
the termination ot his penal .sei vilude. That will give him nearly 
three years to do. Remove tlie prisoner.” 

And Leon, who still posed as a Frenchman, indignantly demying 
the allegations ot the pi isoner- warder which had been interpreted 
to him, was ciiriied back to his cell, 

Fauchette's cause was next disposed of. Her complicity was 
cleiu; wife or no wife she was evidently the other's accomplice, 
f^iill, theie was nothing known against her, so the chairman told 
Ik r he would pass only a nominal sentence— fourteen days. 

Fanchette was also taken back to the jail, where she w’as to 
undergo her shoit punishment. There, before her release, Leon, 
Veil verst (1 in prison ways, very fertile in expedients, brought 
about a meeting between (hem. 

Cut no orders were given for the attendance of an interpreter, 
and as l.,eon had silenced the warder’s scruples, the conversation 
took place in French. 

‘‘ \Yh>>,t dill you get?” was Leon’s first query, put, as 1 have 
said, in French. 

” Only fourteen da^'S. ” 

” All is nt.t lost, then— but it wdll depend entirely upon you. As 
soon as yon are released make your way to London.” 

‘‘ YV hat am I to elo in Jjondon?” 

‘‘ Teiu must see Percy’. He lives now in Victoria Square. Go 
there— no, make him come to yon.” 

” Where?” 

” The safest place will he at the old shop, mamzclle’a, behind 
the Hotel Gaillard. Tell him 1 have been copped, that 1 am going 
l>aek to the ‘ boat ' ” (penal sci vituelc), ” and Ibat 1 shall be away 
al'out ilirec years— imless lie can help me out before then.” 

‘‘ What? bell) escape? How is he to manage that?” 

“ Thai’s bis aflaii— it will be worse for him it he leaves mo in 
jail. Until 1 am fitc 1 won’t slir a finger, as 1 say. So tell him 
lliat, plain.” 

” And allct that, when 1 have seen Percy, may 1 go back to 
Paris?” 

1 thmk net, it won't bo safe. They may ‘ want ’ you on the) 
otlni side. J’ercy, loo, would like to lay his hand on you, perhapB, 
if he falls to help mo. ]Sio: you had belter keej) close. Hide 
son.cwherc, till 1 can come tiud join yon. Leave i\ IcUet itl niam.- 
rx-Uc’s,” 


170 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


" Is tliiit all?” 

“ Pretty well all. 1 can think ct nothing else— except, perhaps, 
about that young kllow— ” 

But here the warder, who was attending at the inlei view, said 
that time was up. Leon and Fanchette exchanged farewells, and 
each went back to his and her own cell. 

Meanwhile, Mr. Peicy Meggitt had been profoundly uneasy. 
^V)mt had become id the marquis? 

The days passed by, first one week, then two, then three, and 
still no news came from his confederate and truilty partnei. Wliat 
did it meanV 

“ U'hat if he has played me false!” went on Meggitt, yielding to 
more gloomy toreliodmgs. 

From the fust he had been merely a tool in the hands of the arch- 
rogue— an iustiument of evil working cut blindly the dictates of a 
stK’iiger and more unscrupulous will. The marquis alone lield all 
the threads of the conspiracy, and 31eggitl was almost powerless 
in the absence of the master-mind. 

All that the cashier could do was to look into his personal liabil- 
ities, and to ascertain, if prrssible, bow far lie was compremised by 
the fiauduleiil oirerations ot ids friend. 

D.iy after day, long alter closing honrs and far into ihe night, bo 
sat there, in the back-parlor, poring over ledgers, compariiig, ex- 
tracting, calculating, till he had covered pages and pages with fig- 
ures, and still ho could not come to any satisfactory conclusion. 
The balance was alw'ays against him, and to an amount that made 
his hair stand on end. 

One evening— it w'ns the vciy day of Leon’s trial at Dorchester — 
Meggitt, feel iig more than hopeless of the future, sat alone in his 
little diuing-icom in Victoria Square. He had dined copiously, 
for the cashier was fond ot the pleasures ot the table, and the more 
nearly ruin impended the more eagerly did he fly to selt-indulgi nco 
lor temporary relief. He W’as finishing a second bottle of Perrier 
Jouet ’74, and was on Ihe point of retiring when a lardy ring at 
the front door was follow'ed by a very noisy km ck. 

His man .soon came in with a letter. It w'as from Barrablc, Mr. 
Dandy’s confidential butler. 


” Honoued Sir,” it said—” Master has had a stroke. He has 
asked twice for you— can you come at once? The doctor fears poor 
piaster can not survive the night, 

” Respectfully yoqts, L Bariuble.” 


tUST AND LOOSE. 171 

T'lie tvesSLiiser luid come in one of Mr. Dandy's bront^hains, and 
Was wiii’ing. 

Miggiil liaslily pm on an overcoat, jumped into the cariiage.and 
was (hi veil oil. 

lioiv wouid it a3ect him— this was his first thought — if anything 
liapptMiid to Jlr. Dandy? He feared the worst. There woukl 
ptobubly bean end to the firm of Caudclent, Dandy, and Waldo, 
or such new arra>'gemeuts that a full investigation of the condition 
of llio bank would be indispensable. Meggitt liad reason to dread 
iinj', even the most formal, inquiry, if conducted indcpenderdly of 
him. These fears oppressed him to seriously that he was quite 
agitated tind rrnnerved by the time he reached Wimbledon. 

JNlr. liarrable and others construed his distress into real anxiety 
for the senior partner, and thoughi all the better of Meggitt for it. 
They eprtte sympathized wMth him, and with the great grief he dis- 
j'laycd at hearing that his gc>od kind friend was already dead. 

Yes, Mr. Dandy had gone oft quite quietly, beyond a few almost 
unintelligible \vords. 

Next day the news reached the Waldos. 

Mr. Waldo went in and disturbed his wife long before her regu- 
lar hour — much to her disgirst. 

“ My dear, 1 have had the most awful news. Mr. Dandy is— 
dead." 

“ Dead!” shrieked the lady'. ” flow? When did it happen? 
Where? From whom have you hear'd?” 

“Mcgirill; he w'as sent for, it seems. Poor old Dandy asked 
f.T him—” . 

“ That w'us as ii should be,” said Mrs. Waldo, oft her guard. 

” I cair not see why, irpun my word. Meggitt is nothing particu- 
lar to him. He rniglit as w'cll have sent for you,” 

‘‘ Me? Mr. Waldo, what do you mean?” 

I ;t\ean that 1 don’t sec why Meggitt sln.urld be sent for. How- 
ever, be was there, lor be writes me himself to tell me the sad 
news.” 

” What will Dandy do with all his money?” asked IMrs. Waldo, 
abruplly, and with such want of feeling lliat even submissive old 
Waldo was shocked. 

“ flow can 1 tell? He would please himself, you may he sure, 
in making his dispositions. But as regards the bank, and his share 
tlierein, 1 do happen to know something, for he consulled me some 
little time ago; 1 suppose, when he was making his will.” 


172 


FAST AND LOOSH. 


“^es?" asked Mrs. Waldo, much interested; “what were his 
intenlious?” 

“ He asked me it 1 saw any objection to his makiuK Meggilt— you 
know we had every reason to be satisfied with the young man — a 
partner by will.” 

“ And you agreed?” 

“ 1 had no alternative. However, Meggitt has been an excellent 
servant of the bank, and 1 was rejoiced to hear Mr. Dandy’s pro- 
posal.” 

“ Then he will now be a partner?” 

“ Yes; unless Mr. Dandy has changed his mind. As to the rast 
of the property 1 am completely in the dark.” 

Mr Dandy’s will was short and to the purpose. It dealt first 
with the possessions that the deceased had most dearly prized — his 
collection of pictures, statuary, and articles of virtu, 'riiese w'eie 
lelt eu bloe to the nation. “ 1 have little, else to reave,” the will 
went on. “ but, after the following legacies have been paid, I 
hereby appoint my young friend and froU e, Percy Miggitt, nsid- 
uary legatee.” 

A separate paragraph dealt with the share and partnership in the 
bank, which Mr. Dandy also left to Percy Meggitt, “ being con- 
vinced that the integrity, intelligence, and industry he has ever 
displayed in the service of the bank will be no less conspicuous 
when at its head.” 

“ It is more than I ever dreamed of,” said IMeggitt to J\Ir. Wal- 
do; “ 1 never anticipated, sir, never— behove me— that 1 should 
rise to be a member of the firm.” 

No, Mr. Percy Meggilt, but your good fortune comes a little too 
late in the day; you are succeeding now to a propertr which you 
have done your best to undermine and destroy; all these lost thou- 
sands, the embezzlements and defalcations whic.h have gone to en- 
rich another rogue, wire partly your own. It is a strange Nemesis 
which makes 3 ’ou a principal sufferer by the nefarious transactions 
in which you so readily engaged. 

“ It will he necessary to prepare deeds of partnership,” went on 
Mr. W aldo; “ 1 will speak to Claytus, and a balance-sheet most be 
drawn up, to date.” 

“Is the latter indispensable?” asked Meggitt, with an inward 
qualm. “ 1 mean that 1 am quite ready to accept my position as 1 
find it, I think 1 know something of the affairs of the bank,” he 
added, with a greasy smile. 


« 

t 


FAST AXD LOOSE. 173 

Si be i(, Meggitt;” aud ixposiire was for the iiionitni post- 

I> ii- il. 

Still Aleggitl w’as terribly anxious to know what amniint ot ready 
casli could be utilized promptly in staving off a financial ciisis. 

“Air. D.iudy does not leave rnrrch behind him, .Megnrtl. He 
was not a raving man, and spent a groat deal on art; he drew his 
inrotne from the bank regularly, but, so far as 1 know, had no 
other means.” 

Air. AValdo’s srrrtnise proved correct. It was a bitter disappoint- 
ment to him to find when everi'lhing was settled, evr ry jiersnv 
realized, that only a lew thousand pountls remained — a sirm barciv 
sufficient to meet the more immediate calls. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

F.\NcrrETTE’s Mrssrox. 

Dauxt was greatly surpriserl when he heard Fanehelto had leti 
Paris. He was as much. anno 3 'ed when he heard that .Jcbarrt had 
1 ft the marquis slip throuiih his fingers. They told him this, and 
• II about Al. Leon Lantimeche, at the Preftcliire, wdrn ha<t been 
recognized at last by the Police. It was some days, however, be- 
fore they tracked the two fugitives to the Cherbourg boat. Then 
Daunt thought it high time to leave Paris. 

His depar ture was hastened by a h tter from Jo ephine, in whicli 
she informed him of the disappearance of Bob. She liad heard 
nothing of him or from him for nearly a fortnight. 

One leittr she had received the morning after his visit to the 
Junior Belgiave, and it told hosv he had waited on Ihe men he 
wished to watch, and how he had heard amidst much hablerdash 
somethiirg that might be useful to the cause he and Josephine had 
so much iit heart. Boh also said that as Alogiritl and the marquis 
were going to the Wtildos’ ball he also meant to be thi-re in the 
same or another disguise. 

And thiit was the las! she had heard of him. Something terrible 
must have happened. The guilty wretches dreading detection Jiad 
not scrupled to do him grievous bodily harm. 

Dautil, lover-like, flew' at once to lier side, 11c halted an h iir 
or two at Chalham, seeking to calm lior apprehensions, then 
hastened on to town. 

Tunmipud, w'ho met }iim at jho Albany, told him all he knew. 


174 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


“Whatever happened to Bob,’’ thought Daunt, “must have 
been on his vvay home through the park. 1 wonder whether the 
constables on these beats saw an 3 'thing odd that cail}' mornin ;? 1 

must consult Faske,’’ said Sir Richard as the end ot his reflections. 

Next morning Daunt saw the detective and detailed Bob’s disap- 
pearance and the circumstances which preceded it. 

“ He was after that same lellow that you saved me from in 
beveu Dials’’ 

“ Was he? Why?’’ 

“ \Ye arc trying to redress a grievous wrong, one in which you 
had some hand — the conviction of the cashier at Waldo’s; and this 
young fellow is old Surtees’s son.’’ 

Faske winked knowingly. 

“ Do your best, sir. It’s natural y^ou should try, but w'hen judge 
and jury have gone against a man it ain’t much use, in m.y experi- 
ence. But it not presuming may 1 ask whai is }^our line?’’ 

“ 'fhe conviction was erroneous for reasons that 1 know we shall 
soon be able to prove.’’ 

“ It you are so positive there may be something in it; yet 1 am 
doubtful, 1 am tree to confess. The case was all so clear.’’ 

“ You told me you thought you knew this fellow in Seven 
Dials?’’ 

“ 1 did; and 1 do still; although 1 don't quite see how it can be 
my man. He was half a Frenchman, who got seven j-eiirs.” 

“ For some sort ot bank-torgery or swindling? Known as 
Lantiradche, real name Devas; supposed to have been in several 
French prisons? but more recently he has been going rnto the best 
ot society as a Cuban Count or Marquis de Ojo V'’erde.’’ 

“ Meggitt’s friend, whose name w’as mentioned at the trial?’’ 

“ The same; and I have been hunting hiirr up ever since.’’ 

Faske was nursing his kg and looking at his shoestring with 
the old air ot abstraction. 

“ 1 begin to see your line, Sir Richard. Do you happen to have 
found out anything alxut the French ma'd, Fancheltc?’’ 

“ She is nothing mere than a creature of the marquis.’’ 

’I he shoe-string again required so mitch attention. 

“ If it wasn’t for our finding the bonds in the old man’s own 
deed-box 1 should begin to smell a rat.’’ 

“ 1 hope w’e shall j’et be able to explain that. Meanwhile, they - 
have caught poor Bob, and 1 am most anxious and unhappy uboiit 
)iira. He m^y be sacrificed.” 

" Wfe UlsUlule m ayUvg s^gr^lt— up tjrjs FrepolMiuvi's 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


iO 

quarters, lie l>a3 frieuds in Seven Dial? ; 1 know him and tliem, 
and the places they haunt. Wail a day or two, Sir Richard, and I 
sha'l have sometliing to tell you.” 

*• Don’t loigct Ihe constables who were on duty in the park on 
the luoining of the 19th — we ought to start from that point.” 
Faske called again at tiie Albany in a couple of days. 

“ 1 have news, Sir Richard, strange and unexpected news. Uur 
man is in custody at Dorchester on a charge of card-sharping on 
boaid the Cherbourg boat, and his black hair is turning red for want 
of dye. Funchetle is in custody, t lO, as a confcdernte. But there 
IS little known against her, and she will get a light sentence, I 
d.iie say Lantimeche will try to communicate with his pals through 
her. She must be watched from the moment she leaves prison. 
Some one must go down to Dorchester.” 

” I wdll go down to Weymouth and stay there till the trial is 
over.” 

” lhat will do well. Sir Richard. We shall get the straight lip 
through Fanchette, you’ll sec.” 

The reader is already informed of the fate that overtook Leon 
and Fanchette. Tlit plans of the former, and the c(>urse marked 
out to the latter, have also been detailed. That Fasice was pretty 
right in his c> njectures will he readily undcrsiood from these plans. 

On the fourteenth morning after the trial Fanchette was released. 
She walked to the station at once, and took a second-class to 
W’atprloo. Daunt was there walchiug, tind he promptly followed 
her into a second-class carriage when the train came; but he was 
careful not to enter into conversation with her until he was dis- 
tinctly encouraged. 

'riure was something in the sound of his voice that made Fan- 
clietle start as he answered her simple question as to how long the 
train would be iu getting to London, and she looked at him very 
keenly. 

But he spoke as she did, in matter-of-fact English, and it was 
irnpos-ihlc that this should be her attached admirer whom she had 
deserted in tire Rue du Bac. 

” Does mademoiselle propose to go tar?” asked Daunt, politely. 

‘‘ Ics, mou.sieur, 1 am going on to London.’’ 

‘‘ En route to Paris, 1 suppose?” 

‘‘Oh, no, monsieur; 1 shail make some stay. 1 have friends 
there.” 

‘‘ Ah! It was, no doubt, in London thgt mtid^moiselle learned 
English so petfecily,” 


17G 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


‘‘ Yes,” she answered, vaguely. ’’There and elsewhere. But 
what bring? you ” — again she had been looking at him very close- 
13’—” in these parts?” 

” Do you know me?” asked Daunt, with inward misgivings. 

” 1 recognized 3’’oii directly. 1 have seen you at Mr. Waldo’s, 
fcrir Richard Daunt.” 

This was a distinct relief. 

” Are you, too, going to London?” she asked, evidently still sus- 
picious. 

” Oh, no!”— he saw Fanchctle’s face brighten. The meeting, 
then, was not intentional—” I shall change at Bishopstoke. 1 am 
going to stay at a house near there.” 

Fanchelte seemed quite relieved by this announcement, and 
chatted away very pleasantly, about her life at the Waldos, about 
Paris— if she had only known!— and many other things, till Bishop- 
stoke was reached. 

There Daunt got out, as he had said; but his first care was to 
find and make himself known to the guard. 

” It the lady in the carriage 1 have left gels cut at any station 
short of Waterloo wire for me to ‘ Faske, Scotland Y ard. Alighted 

at ' Do ymi understand?” Such a question, accompanied by 

halt a sovereign, could only be answered in one way; then Daunt, 
pretty' sure that -tliis colh'quy had not been observed by Fanchetle, 
waved his adieus to her as the train rattled off. 

There was anotlier train a quarter of an hour latex w'hicii Daunt 
meant to take; but betore he started he sent a lengthy telegram to 
Faske: 

” She left by the 8.55 this morning; traveled with her as far as 
Bishopstoke, but for good reasons have left the train. She. is due 
at Waterloo at 1 ?6. Have some one there to meet and follow her. 
1 shall arrive at 3.10.” 

Faske came up to Sir Richard when he reached town. 

” It’s all right. Two ol my men are at her heels. Come with 
me to Scotland Yard— cne of them will return there with news of 
her when there’s any' to tell.” 

They had not long to wait. Within half an hour they heard 
tlial Fanchelte had gone straight from the station to the H6tei 
Gaillard. 

‘ That ptace has two exits,” cried Faske, angrily; ’’Simon 
ought to have known that, and you should have stayed.” 

“ The landlord’s squared. But she won’t leave just yet. She’s 


FAST AXD LOOSE. 17’J' 

sent a message into tbe city by hand; expects some one to come 
and see her, 1 bdieve.” 

“ JVIeggilt, of course!" exclaimed both Daunt and Faske, in a 
brtalh. 

We must folow her; gain admittance by |air means or foul!" 
cried the detective. 

" Leave that to me,” said Sii Richard, quietly; " but 1 must go 
back to my chambers first.” 

Daunt anil Faske’s surmise was perfectly right. Fanchette had 
sent for Megg tt, and ]\Ieggitl’s answer was that he would call at 
the note! Oaillard at once. 

lie came, and, asking for Madame Poirat, was shewn by several 
dark winding passages into the basement of the house. 

” Why are you bringing me down here?” asked Meggitt, feeling 
a little uneasy. 

” It’s all right; Madame Poirat is on a visit to mamztlle. Take 
care of the steps.” 

The loom he entered at length was a small kitchen, not used as 
such, but furnished with some pretense at comfort. This was 
mamzelle’s private apartment, which she occupied when not busy 
with her lodgers — the scum which overflowed for greater security 
from the Hotel Daillard. 

Fanchette was seated there, waiting. 

” Where is Ijoon?” asked Meggitt, abruptly. 

Fanchette rapidly ran over all their adventures from the day she 
left Paris and joined Leim. 

“A disreputable gambling row! what could Leon be thinking 
of? and now’, when so much depended on his presence? It's most 
disastions, most fatal. Worse than ruin is imminent. Without 
him my position is untenable—” 

” You need Leon’s help, then?” Fanchette said, coldlj’. 

” What’s that?” asked Meggitt. ” Something like a knock or 
hammering in a cellar or inner kitchen.” 

“Rats, probably,” replied Fanchette. 

“ Leon alone can save me,” went on Meggitt, thinking no morn 
of the interruption. “ lie must let me know at once where lie has 
deposiled the large sums got from the bank, and must allow me 
to diaw on them. You have come to tell me where they are?” 
Fanchette shook her head. 

“ Leon iias sent you a message by me— but not that.” 

“ What then?” 

“Leon kiiows your difficulty; but he will not stir a finger to 


in 


i^AST ANi) LOOft:E. 


lielp you unless you help liim. He could escape, somehow, if only 
he had assislance Iroiu outside. It must come from you ” 

“ What can I do?” he said, looking up at last; ” help him to es- 
cape? It’s so risuy, so uncertain. Fanchcttc, do you know where 
this mou<y is? 1 see jmu know. For Ileaven.’s sake tell me — name 
yout price.” * 

•‘And sell Leon?” replied Fanchette, smiling contemptuously. 
” Suppose I tell him ot your chivalrous offer?” 

” Fanchette, you are a fool to dine to this man; why are you 
so devoted to him?” 

” 1 care for no other man. lie has promised to marry me as 
soon as he is free. 1 have loved him always, from the first, and 
now 1 am to have my reward.” 

Meggitt laughed aloud. 

” How many women 1 wonder has he befooled! And you all 
believe him! It’s past understanding.” 

” Has Lecn deceived me — how do you know?” Fierce jealousy 
blazed at once into the hot-blooded Frenchwoman’s eyes. 

” Can it be possible that you trust him furtlier than you can 
see? Why, only the niL'ht before he left for Paris 1 heard him 
swearing eternal love to — ’ 

” To whom?” cried Fanchette, as she seized Meggitt by the wrist. 

” Augusta Waldo. 1 heard it all myself.” 

” It’s a false, wicked lie. I will not believe it.” 

” I asked him if he meant to marry her. ‘ Why not?’ he an- 
swered; ‘ she’s fresh, young, and fair; 1 like them so; Fanchette is 
too dark for my taste!’ ” 

Fanchette almost screamed with rage. 

” The traitor! the cur!” she hissed. 

‘‘Lou can not stick to him after that,” went on Meggitt, who 
had closely v^alched the effect ot his words. ‘‘ Why not tell me 
where the money is? 1 will make it well worth your wliile.” 

‘‘ Lnhappily 1 do not know\ Leon keeps his own counsel.” 

‘‘As about Augusta W'ahio,” suggested Meggitt, desirous of 
adding force to Fanchelfe’s wiuth. 

” Those W’aldos! How I hale them all. Tlie mother, with her 
grand airs, her pretensions. She— faugh! If you only knew. But 
w'hy should I not tell you?” 

‘‘ About Mrs Waldo?” asked Mcggill, in astonishment. 

Again the noise in the neigliboriug ceVar. But the pair in the 
kitchen were too full of their own affairs to pay any heed. 


FAST ANt> LoOSfi. itO 

Lislen, niousieur. Do you remeiuler mucli about your eaily 
days— your cbiUlliood? your mother?” 

” 1 was an orplian— from my birth, they told me.” 

” It was a lie; your father and mother arc both alive. 1 know 
it for a tact. 1 have had alt the letters which prove it in my hands. 
T ool that 1 was to part with them!” 

” Fanchette, you must be dreaming; what wild nonsense is 
this?” 

” It is as 1 sa}'-; your mother is alive, and, so far as I know, your 
father, although they go by difletent names, and, as 1 believe, are 
barely friends.” 

” Her name — tell rne my mother’s name.” 

” tValdo. That proud, cc needed woman! Mon Dieu! Why 
did 1 not humble her — ?” 

Fanchette was thinking more of herself than of the startling sur- 
prise she had given Meggitt. 

” Gracious God!” he cried at last. ” It is past belief; and my 
father — quick l What is his name?” 

” Dandy; one ol your associes at the bank.” 

*■ Mr. Dandyl” exclaimed Meggitt. ” This explains all.” 

” It’s the truth, monsieur, exactly the truin. Ask Madame 
Waldo, ttho will not dare deny you.” 

Meggitt rose Ironi his seat, and strode up and down the room 
witliout speaking. 

It is cruel, infamous; hut 1 will be even with her yet. But 
there ” — he said, mastering his rage, ” all that must keep. As to 
Leou, 3 ’ou say he will let me know how I may help him.” 

Fancliette did not answ'er. 

” When is he to leave Dorchester? How can 1 assist liim best? 
By sending there to watch'? What did Leon say?” 

” 1 care not; nor whether he is released at all. 1 shall not mix 
myself more with that false traitor or his affairs. 1 do not wish to 
see him again. 1 shall go back.” 

” \V iiere?” 

” To Paris; I was happy there; contented with my lot. I might 
liave seitled in life; a good honest man, vn lionime de bien, would 
have married me, vvIkmi Been, that devil, reappeared, and lured me 
away. But it is all over now. He had better keep away. If he 
or you, m< nsieiir, seek to liouble mc—gare. You comprelu nd?" 

” What will you do?” 

” What lies in my power to bring you both to juslietj. lean. 


180 


Fast and loosF. 


j^oii know; you are both in 1113' power, and unless 1 am left trad' 
quil 1 will send you both to the bagm." 

“ If it is to be A’ai between us, Fanchette, and yxu do seem bent 
on mischief, there is another, it not a stronger reason for helping 
Leon to escape — we can manage you, not him.” 

‘‘Bah! iris powder is gone, and 1 have other protectors and 
friends.” 

As she spoke a step was heard descending the stairs. It was a 
waiter fiorn the Hotel Gaillard, with a card, which he handed to 
Fanchette. 

‘‘ Monsieur Joliau! here in England, impossible! There, Mr. 
Meggitt, did 1 not tell you 1 had friends?” 

** Who is this man?” asked Meggitt, suspiciously. 

‘‘ A countryman of mine, a rich, respectable bourgeois of Paris, 
who will escort me home. Go, monsieur; 1 have nothing more to 
say to you.” 

‘‘ Where can I see you again, here or in Paris?” 

‘‘ Ask Leon,” replied F'anchette, mockingly, " next time 3'’ou see 
him. Adieu.” 

As she showed Meggitt oul M. Joliau was shown in. 


CHAPTER X.-CX. 

TIIK MISSING BliOrnEU. 

” MoNSiEun .loi.TAu!” s:>id Fanc hette, w’reathing her lips in 
smiles, ‘‘ this is a joy as great as it is unexpected. What brings you 
to this hidelul city?” 

‘‘ Ah, madam.*! would that 1 might say it ^^as ymur beaux yeiix: 
but, alas, candor comp Is me to cimf.ss that I came on business, 
and it was mere chance that brings me the pleasiue of a meeting, 
madame,” 

‘‘ Chance, wdiat lucky chance?” 

‘‘ 1 am lodging near here, and 1 saw you pass an hour ago.” 

” 1 am rejoiced to see 3'ou. Ah, monsieur, 1 am very' sick of all 
this; 1 long for rest, for peace and quiet.” * 

” But what brings you to London, luadaine?” 

■‘ Affairs of succession. 1 inherited a little something from a 
reli live, and p irt of the money is liere, invested in Englisli rentes.” 

‘‘My compMments, madame is fortunate,” said Joliau with a 
jpleasftut laugh. ” Madame is now a good partie, 1 suppose?” 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


ISl 


“ Oh, monsieur, no! But I have wherewithal to live, and adtlccl 
Ic another similar fortune two people would bt rich " 

Tliere was no mistaking this speech. Joliau seemed encour- 
aged to the extent of taking her haml. 

At this moment the knocking or hammering which had inter- 
rupted Fanchette and i\Ieggitl was again heard in the neighboring 
cellar. 

“ What can that be?" asked M. .Joliau, very natuially, but wMth 
a sudden suspicion. 

" Rats, 1 believe. 1 liave heard them several limes since 1 have 
been down here.” 

" Whose room is tliis?” asked Joliau, rather changing his tone 
from the persuasive to the peremptory. 

" Jly jMtronne sits here. She kindly ottered it to me to receive 
my friends. Aou were saying, cher monsieur — ” and Fanchette 
gently tried to lure her suitor back to his intended declaration. 

.Joliau — alias Daunt — was a little puzzled. He had come there to 
discover what he could about Bob, not to make love to Fanchette, 
yet he could net well attord to break with her. 

While he still debated, still holding Fanchetle’s hand, as though 
in an ecstasy of silent bliss, there came a fresh rapping, a knock- 
ing. or whatever it was in the inner room. 

‘‘Do you heat, Mailame Poiral? That noise again, it is veiy 
odd; can there be an}' one in there? Any one listening to what we 
say?” 

Fanchette looked uneasily toward the cellar-door. Except when 
her blood w’as up and she was rendered reckless by passion site 
couhl never quite sliake herself free from dread at the far-teaching 
pow’er of Leon. 

‘‘ 1 will see who is there,” insisted her companion, as he pioceed- 
cd to examine the door. 

” It is locked and boltf'd— outside, strange!” and Daunt put his 
ear to the key-hole. ‘‘ 1 must sift the matter to the bottom,” ho 
went on. in the same peremptory tone. ‘‘ Where is the woman of 
the house? Fetch hei.” 

‘‘ You had -better find her yourself, monsieur; 1 do not like your 
tone or your manner.” 

Daunt hesitated for a moment, doubting -whether it would bo 
safe to leave Fanchette alone. Then ha went as far as the door 
and called out sharply, 

‘‘ Mamzelle! Mainzelle!” 

Jn a tew minutes a heavy step was heard descending the stairs, 


182 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


and the same stout tiery-facea woman appealed wlio had answered 
the door to Daunt a mouth or tAVo before. 

“ Who wants meV’’ she asked angrily, in her high-pitched 
voice, with an American accent. 

“ 1 want to go in here — open quick.” said Daunt in French. 

‘‘ Who are you? By what right do you ask?” 

” 1 come from Leon LantimSche. Make haste.” 

” Be careful,” interposed Fanchette hastil}' in English, thiidiing 
M. Joliau would not understand; ” it is some plot. This gentle- 
man knows nothing of Leon.” 

She was still waveiiug and cotdd not easily withdraw her allegi- 
ance from the man who had so long held her in thrall. 

” Make haste, 1 sa^’'! ' repeated Daunt, upon whose quick ears 
fell fresh and more frenzied shouts from within. ” Give me the 
key or open it yourself.” 

In his excitement he also spoke in Englith. 

” Who are you?” cried Fanchette. 

” You will soon know,” as he spiung out of the kitchen, closing 
the door and locking it behind him, 

A few steps took him to where Faske and his assistants were 
waiting outside the house. 

” Come on, Faske; I have run him to ground 1 hope, but there 
is no time to lose.” 

The party lett by Daunt hurried down-stairs and re entered the 
kitchen, where the two women were still cowering in a corner. 

‘‘ Now,” said Fuske, ‘‘you know me, mamzclle, and why 1 am 
here; give me the key.” 

Very reluctantly she surrendered it; the door was unlocked, the 
bolts drawn back, and Daunt ran in. 

Ilis instincts had not misled him. Bob Surtees was there, lying 
half-fainting on a miserable mattress on the floor. 

It was a dimly-lighted, disgusting den, a back-kitchen opetiing 
into a scullery, but nowhere communicating with the open air. 
The light came from a bull’s-eye, like that over a coal-cellar, but 
probably fixed at the bottom of a narrow deep aiea. Any one 
shut in here was effect ually cut oft from the outer world, as much 
forgotten here in the heart of London as ttiough he lay in some 
loathsome subterranean oubliette. 

Faske and Daunt carried Bob out at once into the kitchen and up- 
stairs 

It was some time before Bob recovered his speech. 

'' I thought I 6h<>V!W uevei come out of thgt place tUive,” he s(ut\ 


FAST AXD LOOSE. 


1S3 


[ 


^ at length. “ They attacked me in the park— men 1 had never 

J aeeu before, and who must have made me insensible. When 1 

came to myself 1 was in that daik filthy hole alone.” 

- ” Were you ill-used?” 

” Only when 1 shouted too loud. They came then, and swcro 
\ to kill me.” 

■ ” And you made no attempt to escape?” 

i ” 1 was always thinking ot it. but how was 1 to get out? The 
t cellar had no exit; 1 was watched, toe; and, until today, when- 
ever 1 knocked some one always appeared. It was because no one 
came in to stop me that I kept at it so to-day. 1 thought there 
might be a chance — that strangers perhaps were Iheix.” 

” They had left Faiichetle alone tor a private talk with Meg- 
gitt.” 

Bob looked sut prised; he could not take it in quite. 

’ ” There is much for 3'ou to heat. Bob. But come, can 5'ou bear 

to be moved, do you think— to my chambers, say, in the Albany?” 

” Stay, Sir Richard,” interposed Faske. ” 1 think we must set- 
tle with these women first; they ought to be taken into custody.” 

” Can’t you wait a lillle? 1 don’t want an3dhing done prema- 
turely, at least not until we have the whole case completed.” 

“ VV'lial case?” asked Faske. knowing perfectly well. 

” The reversal ot the sentence against Mr. Surtees, the evidence 
for which I am collecting, and which is fast growing in my hand.^.” 

Faske shook his head. ” At least let me ask the French maid a 
few questions.” 

” 1 hope Madame Poirat bears Monsieur Joliau no malice,” ho 
said, laughingly. lie had long .since taken of! his wig and glasses. 

“ Who is addressing me — Monsieur Joliau, or Sir Richard 
Daunt?” 

” Tlic latter. Listen attentively. You have some information 
that 1 want. Give it to me, and 1 will make it well worth 3'our 
while.” 

” 1 do not sell information, or my friends,” replied Fanchette, 
loftily'. 

” Only your enemies, Mrs. Waldo for example; shall 1 tell her 
3'ou— stole— those letters, for which she paid you a large sum?” 
Fanchette started. 

” Do you know what is llie penalty ot chantage in this country— 
of extorting idouey by thwats? Fiv^ years at the yery least, eq 
lulvQ 


ISi 


FAST AKD LOOSE. 


vyijy fio you persecute me, mnusieur? 1 have already told 
you, as 31ousieur Joliau, that 1 do not dare divulge anjdhing.” 

Daunt, despairing, took Faske aside, and they had a whispered 
con ft renee, 

“ 1 shall gel no good out of her here.” 

“ Wliat do j'ou propose, then?” 

“ To let her go, but keep a close watch over her, so that we may 
lay hands on her directly the moment arrives. She will go back 
to Paris, 1 expect, and there 1 can make it perfectly certain that 
she will be produced it required.” 

‘‘ All right, we will withdraw', then, without further action. 
Gr.od-day, ladies,” said the detective, in a mocking tone, “per- 
haps you’ll hear cf us again. So lock out for squalls.” 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE SECItETS OF THE BANK. 

One of the first steps taken after Bob had regained strength, was 
to pay a visit, in company w ith Daunt, to young Driffield. Tiie 
CDnversaiion overheard at the Junior Belgrave indicated that the 
clerk was in possession of some damaging facts. 

Driffield hesitated, but when he hoard he might help poor old 
Surtees, for whom he had a strong regard, he told all he ktrew 
about Flemings and the bills. 

Very soon after business had commenced next day Sir Richard 
■w'as closeted with one of the partners in the greatest banking- 
licu.se ill Europe. 

Daunt without hesitation told the whole story. 

*■ It is mainly surmise at present,” said the great banker, “ or at 
most strong suspicion. The only tangible fact is about these bills 
of — of — thank you, Flemings of Manchester. 1 don’t seem to know 
the name ol Flemings of Manchester, but that might easily happen. 
But 1 vvill have the matter looked into. Will 3’ou come again, say 
at the same time to tr or row ?” 

When Daunt paid his next visit he was greeted very w'armlj’. 

“ You have done us a great service in bringing this matter to our 
ru tice. Sir Richard. Tliere has been some foul play, I fear.” 

“ As to Fleming and Co.?” 

” Yes. 1 told you 1 did not know the name, and 1 might well 
gft)' that. X find wg pever had any dcfilipga yitp Urcnt pt uU,” 


i-'AsT A HI) ivoosi'j, 


l85 


And those bills?” 

‘‘ If they bore out indorsement they were forged.” 

“ As 1 thought. 1 was right, you sec, in suspecting roguery.” 

” Perfectly. Tire name — we have ascertained, by reference to 
Manchester, that there are no such people as Fleming and Co.” 

” A gross swindle, then, has been or is being perpetrated, tc 
which Wal.lo’s are a parly.” 

” JMot so fast. Sir llichard. Waldo’s are a highly respcctahle 
heuse, with whom we have done btrsiness, for years, (enluries al- 
most, and it would be hasty to acettse them of complicity. On the 
contrary, they are more likely to have been victims, like ourselves. 
Indeed, the loss would have fallerr entirely upon them. So we 
have thought it right to put them on their girard. ” 

” Aon have told them of the forgeries?” said Daunt, rather 
aghast. He had his reasons for not wishing Meggitt prematuiely 
exposed. 

” A’es. A confidential clerk has been round to Mincing L.me, 
w hen he saw their new partner, Mr. xMeggitI, who was, of course, 
extremely obliged to us.” 

"And that’s the end of the matter,” observed Daunt, ruefully, 
beginning to despair. 

” Well, not quite. Oddly enough, yesterday, after you were 
here, a client came to consult us about seme dock warrants wliicli 
he knew to be genirine, hut he had ascertained that others, <tupli- 
cales, and therefore fictitious, were in existence, litld Iry— who.n 
do 3 ’ou tliink ?” 

” Waldo’s?” 

” Fxactlj’. ^^ow, taken singl 3 % these might be accidents, hnt 
logetlier they point to bomething radically wrong in their way of 
doing Du8ines.s. Erl tier insufficient care, or a lamentable want of 
judgment, is (lispla 3 ’ed, or there is something much worse treliin l.” 

” So 1 have alw’ays tliouglrt, and it must come orrt hef(»re long.” 

” Not a doubt of it; meanwhile W’ aide’s must he injuriously .-iffeef- 
cd. It is impossible to keep such matters as these perle( lly seer; (, 
anil I fear the credit of the hank will snfTer unless they greaily 
alter their system. But ail this may make them more eaieful.” 

Tire visit of flu: C( nfidential clerk from Roth-sctiilds had been a 
great blow to Meggitt, perfectly unexpected, ariit for the moment 
prosttatrng. 

But he recovered himself at once, and thanked liis visitor warmly. 

” It was all right,” ho said, ” hut a ve:y narrow escape. The 
bills were paid at maturity.” 


180 


i'AST AKib LOOSE. 


" Do you know these Fleaiuigs well? Who are they? Is there 
any such Him?” 

‘‘ We liave had veiy few dealings with them, any way. But they 
kept an account here till quite lately.” 

” And you discounted their paper?” 

” Yes, of course, especially when it was accepted by Roths- 
childs.” 

” Who never saw it,” said the conlidential clerk. 

" W a shall have nothina more to say to them you may depend 
upon it, and arc very grateful for the caution.” 

Meggitt was not long in pouncing upon the person who had be- 
trayed him. 

It must have been Driffield,” he said to himself, and he sent 
at once for the young man. 

‘‘ You have been gossiping about that littie affair of Fleming and 
Co.’s bills, the bills that were not dated, 1 mian. To whom did 
you mention the circumstances?” 

” Only to two persons— they asked me, and it seemed so trivial a 
matter.” 

But it was breaking the rule amt disobeying my strict injunc- 
ti ;ns. Who were these two persons?” 

Driffield hung his head. 

” 1 insist upon 3 mur telling me.” 

*• One. was young IMr. Surtees, the other a Sir Richard Daunt.” 

It was as Meggitt feared. The enemy was pressing him hard, 
and was already within his inner inireuchments. 

‘‘ That will do, Mr. Driffield. 1 shall not have to speak to yen 
again. The bank will not require your services any longer. You 
shall receive a moidli’s salary’’ in lieu r t notice; good-daj’. ” 

-Meggitt was a fool; lie felt it liiniselt, but he ccuhl not resist his 
first impulse to punish his employe s treachery. 

“ Let him go over to tlie enemy; at lea.st lie will nut spy upon 
me here. 1 dare sa}’ Lei.n would not approve, hut Leon should 
not leave me in the lurch. I wender whetlier I .sliall ever succeed 
in getting him awaj ?” 

lie had liail several communications w ith the prisoner .since Fan 
clielle had hrought tlic first message, but, in none had there been a 
word about the intended escape. 

Letleis had arrived, asking for money— that was all; money to 
be paid over to tlie bearer, who was ” a liiciul,” and which would 
be used in helping Leon to bear the privations of prison life. 


FAST AND LOOSE. IS?" 

Tiicii had siihoined one of (he warders ot Dorchester prison, and 
was lililiziiig him for Ids own ends, 

T’liis tailhless 'oflicer, whose name was Goody, had In come his 
pi isonei ’s most attached and devoted slave. Tlieir i osilions were 
entirely reversid.' It was J^eon w ho ordered, Gooily who oheyed, 
lleie’s news at last,” sahl Mr. Gooily, one morning, as lie < n- 
teted Leon’s cell with the prisoner’s breakfast. 

Besides the legnlar latiou ot coc a and brown bread, there were 
a couple ot new iaid eggs, and a pal < f prime Dorsetshire butler 
straight from Mrs. Gooily ’s hands. 

“ 'Taint good news neiiher — the route is come tor Chatham.” 

“ ilow' shall I travel?” asked Leon. 

“By the Somh ’Western,” replied Mr. Goody; ‘‘1 know' the 
mute Well; it is not the tirsi time 1 have been, and it won’t be the 
last.” 

” Are you going with me, then?” 

” Cerlaiii sure 1 am. 1 am the first lor escort, and the governor 
is bound to take me.” 

*• Cai>iaiii Scrooby will come himself, then?” asked Leon, look- 
ing very disapjroiided. 

■‘‘He always aceornpanies convicts, particirlarly wlien they are 
prisoners ot dislini liott like yourself.” 

IjCou sin led at Goody’s eompliittenl, birt drd not replj'. He 
was revolving a deep scbetrie in his brain. 

‘‘ The Soitih Western, you say— we shall pass through London, 
then?” 

‘‘ The train goes to Waterloo, but we get out at V^attxhall and 
cross to Victoria in a cab.” 

‘‘ Vauxhall is a quiet little station, 1 think? Dew people about, 
anil not much traflic?” 

‘‘ There is a bustle when the train comes in, that’s all 1 know; 
we don’t have much lime there, ro I can not tell much about it.” 

‘‘1 must write a letter today,” said Leon, abruptly; ’‘my 
friends must know' tliat 1 am leaving this.” 

” Right 3'ou are, sir; 1 will bring you Hie paper when 1 come 
with dinner.” 

By noon Leon lia L nratured bis plans. Hastily ilispalcbing bis 
dinner— there were a couple of cold sausages aud the leg of a fowl 
ralroductd into the prison fare — he sat down to write, 

” 1 had belter say w'hat I have to say in French; Goody would 
b* .sure to read rny letter, and he might think that ,l was leftipi' 
him inlo a hole,’’ 


188 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


“ Dear Friend,” Ir; began — ‘‘ The lime has come. 1 am to 
he removici to Chatbam ne.At Friday, and yon will have a chance 
of lielping me at last. 1 am writing lliis in French, because my 
messenger will probably try to read it. an J, as what 1 hope may be 
effecteil will compromise him, it is tetter that he should not under- 
sland. For the same reason 1 shall mention no more names, 
but shall, 1 think, be sullieiently exiilicii w'ithout. Our train 
leaves here at ten minutes past eight, you will ribserve 1 write ilie 
ligures, numerals can be re ad in any language. We travel by the 
South Western. The Railway Guide will iell you when the train 
is due in town; we do not come on lo the terminus, but stop at the 
station just outside; look again at your guide. There 1 shall be 
transferred to a cab, and taken across to the other station; 1 have 
told you my destination, so you will guess the line. Now the 
chance will be just before 1 get into the cab; be on the lookout 
with one or two men whom you can trust; act promptly as oppor- 
tunity offers, and all will be well. It you can not arrange alone 
consult mademoiselle.” 

This letter was written and ready folded when Goody came in to 
take away the dinner-tins. 

“This must go to the same place as the others, and when it 
reaches there you will touch the same amount.” 

‘‘Seems piell}' long,” said Mr. Goody, opening it unceierauni- 
ously; ” and in a foreign lingo, too— hast ways, 1 can’t understand 
it. You aren’t up to no larks, I tiusi; pot going to give us the slip 
on the road, r.r arranging any plant of that kind.” 

" 1 sha’n’t be able lo write again for six months, and it was nec- 
.cssaiy to give full instructions to a French friend of mine abi iit 
home business matters.” 

“Oh! if that’s all it don’t matter. But you know 1 am play- 
imr a lisky game.” 

While this conversation was in progress, the governor. Captain 
Scrooby, was giving an audience to a superintendent ol the county 
police. 

‘‘ We had a letter, sir, this nioining,” the latter said, ” from 
Scotland Yard, in which we were requested lo wain you about a 
prisoner in your custody— that French fellow who was tried last 
8es.sions ami who is going to b..‘ moved to Chatham. They have Imarrl 
that he will try to make his escape somewhere on the journey.” 

‘‘ Why don’t they mind their own business? 1 am quite able 
to manage my affairs.” 

Although so sclf-confldeut Captain Scrooby took every precau- 
tion. 

They traveled up second class, having a compartment to them- 
eclyes. Both doors w’erc locked, the governr r nroupted ^uard at 


J'AST AKi) LOOSE. 


189 


one, Mr. Goody iil llie o!hor. Leon sni between them, cool and 
comfortable, In a lii'bt suit of “ diltoes ” which he had worn on the 
journey from Paris, ami looking, but for the manacled hands, like 
an ordinary passenger. No incident of any importunce occurred 
on tire journey up. Captain Scrooby never relaxed his vigilance. lie 
sat bo t upright at his window with his eye constantly fixed on 
his prisoner. This window on the platform side was her ineticallj’ 
closed, so that none of lire occirpants of the carriage could liave 
any knowdedgeof what took place at the few stations at which they 
had stopped on the road. 

Captain Scrooby was quite uncouscious, therefore, that the train 
had been invaded at Basingstoke by a small mob of roughs. The 
first intimation he had of the fact was at Vauxhall, where they 
alighted with liim and his part}'. Hail he realized who they were, 
or their intentions, he would certainly have gone on to Waterloo. 

But to understand the movements of this little band it is neces- 
sary to lollow the letter dispatched clandestinely by Leon to Meg- 
gitt. 

Meggitt had understood on receiving it that whatever he did he 
must do at once. 

But the more he thought it over the more he realized his own 
helplessness, lie felt that lie must talk it over w'ith inamzelle, and 
with this object he went to Seven Dials the same night 

“ It won’t be so easy,” said that stolid-looking matron, ‘‘ but it 
is a rare chance, and it must be tried. 1 will call Joe Magsman,” 
an evil-looking individual who said — 

We can get him fast enough; the thing will be to keep him or 
help him away.” 

” But how’ will you get him?” asked Meggitt. ” It will be broad 
daylight and he is sure to be well guarded.” 

‘‘ By two at the most, and that Vauxhall is a very confined phrcf, 
and there are some dark passages to go along. While there, iny 
pals shall hustle the screws, and, while lliey are in trouble, you slip 
off with my lord.” 

” Oh, 1 can’t interfere ju the affair— it’s far too dangerous for 
me. 

” Not worse for you than for us, master.” 

‘‘ 3Iy risk is greater than yours- 1 have far more to lose, and 
it would be woise for every one if 1 got into trouble.” 

What are you talking about trouble for? The thing is as 
easy ns a glove, it you have ouly got the heart to do it quick and 


100 


i'AST AND LOOSil. 


clc-an. A^liile we are liuslling the screws 3 'ou slip j^our arm into 
our tiiend’s an< lead him oil to the cab rank.” 

‘‘ t'ome one shall do ii, but it shii'n't be me.” 

” You had better be on the box ol the ‘ shotul,’ and, when he 
comes to you, drive oti,” 

*• That would not suit me neither, 1 am not much ot a whip. 
But 1 will see to the cab, and the penon to take Leon to it. After 
that where had he better go?” 

This would be the safest place,” said .loe, ” tliere in a snug 
corner down stairs, where he could lie close till after the pursuit, 
anil then slip over to France.” 

” 'Tain't safe no longer,” interrupted mamzelle, ” ever since the 
police were here. And they are still hanging about the place ” 

” If he could change his clothes in the cab — and we could liave 
a suit there on purpose — he could be driven as last as possible to 
lire New Cut and left to shift for himself.” 

” Well, master, that’s 3 'our atluir; we will lielp him to make his 
‘ guy.’ it only you’ll pay.” 

“ flow nianj' of you will there be?” 

" Half a dozen to do the trick. More ri'ight attract suspicion, and 
thej' would only he tumbling over one anotlur.” 

But you won’t all hang about Vauxiiall Station?” 

” 1 am not such a nine rnponp. We will go down the line a l)ii, 
and get into the train at Basingstoke or Beading.” 

” 1 see; and you will all get cut together at Vauxhall, and rescue 
Leon on the way down.” 

" Tlial’s it, master, the way down from the platform; it’s very 
dark at the bottom, at the end of which crosses the passage to the 
cab rank That’s where ymu must be.” 

” My agent, not me, 1 tell you.” 

” As you please, but if the plant fails jmu will have only your- 
self to thaidi. As 1 tell jmu, wdien we have set him loose our job’s 
done.” 

” Not a word of all this fo a soul, rrrind,” said Meggitf, impress- 
ively. “ If there is any suspicion of what we ai'e at, the police 
will soon hear about it.” 

” They are out of it this time, never fear.” 

Meggitt, thus assured, then took his departure, leaving Joe to 
settle a few further details with mamzelle and got a letter con- 
veyed to Leon. 

She had been right in saying that the police were hanging about 
lire place. Two of Mr. Faske s young men were constantly on the 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


'.vainb. and they saw Mcggilt leave the house as they had seen Idm 
enter iL They also saw Joe Magsman go out tliat afternoon, and 
one of them followed him as far as Vauxhall, all of which was 
duly repoited to Faske. 

“ They are up to no good,” said the detective. ‘‘ But that old 
ft ol of a governor would not he warned. I must keep my 63^6 on 
him till the last; 1 may still stop their little game.” 

On (he Frida3' morning, however, veiy early, they managed to 
give him the slip, and traveling down to Basingstoke entered the 
train there, as we knovv. 

Faske wiis on the piatfoim at "Vauxhall at twelve noon. He 
knew the route taken h}’ prisoners going through London to Chat- 
liam, and he felt sure that Captain Serooby would alight there. 

Then the train ran in and disgorged its passengers. Alt (he 
tickets for VVaterlco were collected, and there was much stir and 
some confusion at the station. Faske saw the prison governor 
pinse on the platform to let the crow'd pass, and he sasv also the 
small party of roughs also lingering close behind. Guessing al- 
most intuitively what was to happen next, he descended the stairs 
and looked back. 

Prescntl}’ escorts and prisoners came down. They were walking 
tnree abreast, l.eon, in the center, the tw’o officials on either side. 
Tlie P’rt3’ had the stairs to themselves, till suddenly the roughs 
appeared at the top and followed dow'n wdth a rush, hustling and 
jostling all belore them. Three of them settled upon Captain 
Scfoo1)3% three upon Mr. Goody, and forcibly detained them, while 
Jieon heard a hoarse wdiisper in his ear: 

” Run, man: run for your lile.” 

He nt eded no second intimation. Feeling that this was the su- 
preme moment, that now it depended only on himself to es- 
cape. he bounded forward, took the last three steps in one, and, 
reaching the bottom of tlie stairs, paused for just one secontt to 
look right and lelt. 

It was here, according to Meggilt's letter, that further assistance 
was to teach him. 

It came. Some one approached, and, taaing him by the arm, 
cried : 

‘‘ l.rok slippy! the cab’s here.” 

Then they hurried on together arm-in-arm into the yard beyond 
the station, jumped almost simultaneously into a hansom that 
s'ood wailing; the doors were shut, the glass let down, and the 
horse iu-*tuatly stalled oft at score. 


Past AKi) LOOSE. 


“ Very neatly done,” said Leon, with a sigh of relief. 

“Very!’’ replied his companion, dryly, in a voice that made 
him start and look round. 

It was Paske, the detective. 

“Pul away!” cried I-eun, with a frightful imprecation, as he 
sunk back upon the cushion of the cab. “ Where are you taking 
mef’’ 

“ IMillbank will bo nearest and safest, I thinK., lor such a slippery 
customer as you,” replied the detective with condescending frank- 
ness. 

When half an hour laler Captain Scrooby came to Scotland 
Vard looking very disconcerted and crert-fallen, to report the loss 
of his prisoner, he was agreeably surprised to learn that Leon had 
never actually been at large. 


CHAPTER XXXll. 

MONEY IS TIGHT. 

Sin Richard Daunt had been told that Waldo’s credit would 
assuredly be affected unless they mended their ways 

True enough, the very day aficr young Driffield’s dismissal, Mr. 
Meggllt had found some ditbculty in discounting the paper of the 
bank. It had been declined politely but unmistakably at one or 
two houses, and, when negotiated al last, it was at higher than the 
maiket-ratcs. 

A bint got about, and the immediate result was the w’ithdrawal 
of one or two large accounts. Among others Mr. Bonastre, who 
was now highly prosperous, terminated his business dealings with 
Waldo’s, tind’in a way that made Meggilt ftai lie suspected some- 
thing was wrong. 

Mr. Bonastre had done this on the very day of Leon's removal 
from Dorchester to Chatham. 

“ At. if 1 had not enough tc agitate rr,e to-day,’’ said Mrggitt to 
himself, after the actor had gone. “ 1 wonder when 1 shall hear 
the result of our stratagem! it’s long past one,’’ he added, taking 
out his watch, “ 1 ought to have had news before tliis. ’’ 

It had been arranged that a carefully worded telegram to the 
effect that the “ meichamiise had been landed ’’ should be dis- 
patebed by Joe Magsmau, directly Lron had got away. 

But no telegram had arrived, and MeggitI cDuld not (onccal his 
anxiety. 


FAST LOOSE. 


103 


It was nearly two o’lock when FToskins brought in ii note in a 
crumpled and lliur'ib-slained envelope, which he handed to Meg- 
gitt with rnther a difidaintui air. 

Meggiit hastily tore open the envelope, and read as fcllcws: 

“ Aliist speak to you directly; it was no go; 1 am waiting at the 
corner in a fc.ur- wheeled cab.” 

ile took up his hat and hurried into the street, where he found 
Joe Magsman at the place indicated. 

Well,” he asked, ” what Happened? Did he get awa)' all 
right?” 

” No, the whole blooming trick was spoiled by the fellow' you 
sent to do your woik. We mobbed the screws properly, and the 
boss made his guy to the bottom ot the steps; but when 1 got down, 
thinking he had made a clean bolt wdlli our man, 1 found the fel- 
low standing there alone. The blooming ass had let some copper 
carry off the bo.ss from under his nose.” 

And where is Leon then?” 

‘‘ Back in the stone jug, I expect, for the blokes from Dorchester 
were seen coming out of the bank — ” 

” What bank?” interrupteil Jleggitt. 

” Not one of your kind; Millbauk, 1 mean. He is there. I’ll bet, 
laid by the bids, until they can move him to Chatham.” 

“It’s most vexatious,” said Aleggitl to himself, as he walked 
slowly back to the bank, ” and it puts me in a frightful hole. 1 
musi lay my hands on a large sum within the next week or two, 
or blue rum will stare me in the face. 1 must look up an)' assets 
that tire easily realized, and 1 must call in all the loans and advances 
on which 1 can Itiy my hands.” 

Aleggitt devoted himself to this task for the rest ot the day, 

‘‘ That makes,’' he sard at length, quite a couple ot hours later, 
” something like £.30,000. it we can get it all in, that is to say, and 
Air. Wiildo does n( t object.” 

Tile old gentleman w'as at home at Kew, in very feeble health, 
nursed by liis daughter Helena, the rest of the family b.ing out of 
town. Aleggitt visited him that evening, and producing the list 
scrutinized carefully and ran ovei the names aloud: 

Haddock and Hamilton, Liniming and Co., Jabez Bichardson, 
Smith and Flinlort, i^ord Wingspur,” Here Air. Waldo stojiped 
him abruptly and shook his head, ” That won’t do. Aleggitt.” 

” But that’s the one ot all others 1 wish to speak to you abou^ 
his lordship owes the hank a great deal of money.” 

” It is secured, some ot it at any r.ate.” 


194 


FAST AMI) LOOSE. 


“Yes, upon some bairen land, all rocks and morasses, in the 
wiUls of Scotliud.’’ 

“ IJut they are my wife's lelatives—slic would never let me i)!tss 
them.” 

“ Pardon me, Mr. 'Waldo, but this is a matter which hardly con- 
cerns Mrs. Waldo;’’ and Meggitt spoke with great firmness. “ Ilia 
lordship must be pressed;’' and in the end Meggitl carried his point. 

The upshot ot it all was tlial Lord Wingsput wrote for once in 
Ids Irfo to his wife, who was staying with her daughters iu the far 
North. 

“ Waldo’s are dunning me infernally,’’ he said, “ and 1 shall be 
cornfred if they persist. Can’t you talk over the old woman? get 
her and the daughters asked to the duke’s,’’ 

At this moment Mrs. VValilo and her daughters were in Scotland, 
’riiey had taken a place, Dal-na-muiek, for the stiooting season and 
were enjoying themselves their own way. But that joy was greatly 
increased by the invitation sent at Lord Wingspur’s instance, for 
liilherto this duke, the chief local magnate in their neighborhood, 
had not condescended to acknowledge their existence, 

Larly VVingspiir, who was ot tiie party at the castle, rather 
opened Mrs. Waldo’s eyes by talking of the mortgagrs. still J\Irs. 
Waldc w'as grateful for the Ik nor done her, and showed it by 
promising to put her foot upon Mrggitt, Directly she returned to 
Dal-na-Muick she indited him a letter with her own hand. 

“ My DKAJi Mil. Meggitt,’’ it said— “ Won’t you he persuaded 
to taKo a little lecieatiou ami rest? You work too hard, if all I 
hear is true. 1 wish j’ou could be persuaded to come down and 
pay us a short visit. Will you? and bring your friend the miirrpiis 
with you it he is anywhere within reach. 

“ There are one ot two small matters, too, that I should like to 
talk to you about. What is this I hear of the Wingspur mort- 
gages? 1 am sure my husbaad would not hear of their being lore- 
closed, as 1 think it is called. But all that will keep till 1 see you. 

“ Mind you coiue, and fix your own time. 

‘ Sincerely yours, 

“ Auiiei.ia Waldo.’’ 

“ Go!’’ said Meggitt, bitterly, on receiving this letter. •' Mow 
much 1 should like it. But do 1 dare? Is it safe? There is no 
knowing what might happen here when my back is turned. And 
yet— By Heaven, I’ll risk it. 1 have longed for this ever since 
I saw Fauciictte. I must and will meet this proud unnatural w oman, 
1 will tell her that 1 know all, that 1 despise and hate her, aod 
IjiRt gjic m\jst seek dp favors, expect no mercy, from m«,” 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


195 


Oil reaching Dal-na-Miiick, ami waiting for more than an hour, 
Mrs. Waldo sent for him to lier private sitting-room. 

“ Sit down, my dear Air. Meggitt,” she began; “ 1 have much 
to say to 3 'ou.’' 

Meggitt, arming himself with all his fortitude, obej’ed quietly. 

‘‘ 111 the first place, about tliis money owed by Lord Wingspur?” 

“ ll has been owing a long time, ^ye have repeatedly asked 
Lord Wingspur for a seilitineut, and he has invariaOly put us off. 
1 had no alternative, therefore—'’ 

“ Vou had no alternative! A.m 1 to understand that you, and 
3 'ou alcne, represent the bank?” 

” Vvhen no one else is there, certainly. Besides, if every one 
went on as Lord Wingspur does, we should soon have to shut up 
shop. Times are liaid.” 

” That’s a pity, for I was going to tell 3 ’ou 1 should require a 
considerable sum next week.” 

” What will be the amount?” 

” About ’’—and Mrs. Waldo consulted a memorandum-book at 
her side — " about lour thousand pounds.” 

“ ll is perfectly impossible.” 

“How date you make such ditliculties?” cried Mrs. Waldo, in 
an angry voice, lur face flushed with rage. “Mr. Dandy never 
did. 1 could always get as much mone 3 ’ as 1 wanted in his time.” 

“ There were no do"bt reasons why Mr. Dandy should refuse 
you nothing.” 

Mrs. IValdo looked at Meggitt in amazement, not uumixed with 
fear, 

“ What is the meaning of that remaik?” she cried, quickly, 
catching at her breath. 

“1 mean that lam well aware of Mr. Dandy’s obligations, and 
bow he incurred them; but 1 do not consider them— although 1 
admit they might have been— binding on me.” 

Mr.a. Waldo bad lost her self possession, and was now staring at 
Meggitt with wild, wide-open eyes. 

” Is it possible that you can know?” she gasped out, 

“ 1 know everything. Only the other day accident made me 
acquainted with the relation in which I stand to 3 'ou— ” 

‘ Oh, Perc 3 q spate me! 1 have so yearned to take you to my 
heart— all these years.” 

“ Pshaw! you can not impose upon me with pretended affection 
--now, at the eleventh hour. It comes tco late.” 

“ Percy, 1 swear to you 1 would have acknowledged you had 1 


19(1 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


clareil. \on have been ever (he dearest to me of them all. 1 have 
loved you sincerely, deeply — ” 

“ Aiul 1.0 w have you shown il? To whom do 1 owe my present 
position^' To my own strenuous endeavors.” 

‘‘ Y<.\j mislake, Percy. It is not so. From the first 1 have 
watched over you, thought for you, worked tor j’ou. It was at 
my insliince and on my persuasion that you were appointed cashier. 
You would never have been a partner h.ad we not wished to secure 
your future, and atone in some measure for the past.” 

‘‘It came too late,” said Meggilt, gloomily, ‘‘1 was already 
compromised.” 

” I do not understand?” 

‘‘ You shall, fast enough. VVhy should 1 conceal anything from 
you? You would not dare to expose me— you would be included 
in the guilt and shame.” 

” What have you done, Percy? Tell me, 1 beseech you, at cnce.” 

‘‘ Some time back 1 fell into the power of a villain; a clever un- 
scrupulous rascal; you know him — ” 

‘‘The marquis? Poor Augusta!” 

” Who look advantage of certain silly mistakes of mine to get 
me into his power. Since then 1 have been his slave, working his 
wicked will, lie forced me to play fast and loose with the bank.” 

‘‘Is the bank in jeopardy? INow, too, when 1 am myself so 
heavily involved?” 

‘‘ The very greatest jeopard}'.. Nothing tut the reappearance of 
Leon— the marquis, as you know him — can save us.” 

‘‘ Where is he?” 

‘‘ In jail, lie is a common felon, a low, base criminal, who has 
just been recommitted to complete an old sentence. He was a 
tickel-ef-leave man when he came to your house.” 

” Did you know that?” 

” No— mother, 1 did not; although 1 could not have prevented 
it. 1 was loo completely in his power.” 

‘‘ How could he help you if he was free?” 

‘‘ He alone can lay his hands upon the sums — vast sums nut of 
which he has swindled the bank. They are hidden or Invested 
somewhere in his or a false name, and he refuses to give us the 
slightest clew till he gets out.” 

‘‘ Won’t you help him, then?” 

‘‘ 1 have tried once, but failed. We have enerpies plotting 
against us, and they have ruined our plang.” 

‘‘ Who, pray, are these enemiea?” 


PAST AKt> LOOSE. 


19 ? 


“ Sir Richard Daunt and the Surtees, of course. They ate 
moving heaven and earth to rehhtniilate tlie old man.” 

” Was he unjustly sentenced?” 

” Yes. It was necessary to get him out of the way. We— Leon, 
that is to say— could not have carried out the schemes it Mr. Sur- 
ti ts had remained cashier.” 

■' It is all too horrible. But is there no help; no hope?” 

‘‘JSio lielp, but what I say; that and a bold front. You shall 
liave the £4000 you require. Somehow; 1 can not tell how at 
present. But it must not come out that you are unable to pay your 
debts.” 

He spoke roughly, lest she might suppose this concession was 
due to any tenderness for her. 

” Have you anything else to say?” he added. 

‘‘Oh, Percy, my poor boy! 1 have erred grievously, but my 
punishment has been severe. You will forgive me, pity me — ” 

‘‘This sentiment comes a little too late, mother. If I can not 
propeily appreciate it the fault is hardly mine. But i must be 
going.” 

‘‘ Going?” 

‘‘ Back to London; the sooner the better. Any day the storm 
may break, and 1 must not be absent from my post.” 


CHAPTER XXXIll. 

IN JAIL AND OUT. 

Faske and Daunt had a long consultation over the Surtees allair 
the day alter Leon’s attempted escape at Vauxball. 

‘‘ Come, Faske, you must admit that there has been a grievous 
mistake,” said Sir Richard. 

Tiie detective was looking at his shoe-string as usual. 

‘‘ 1 should like to admit it, although it’s much against myself; 
but still, there are one or two points that 1 can not get over. These 
bonds, how came they in Surtees's possession?” 

‘‘ Meggitt may have put them there jusi when Mr. Surtees de- 
cided to realize part of the stock. Y'ou must remember that what 
we found — and what were sold — did not make up the whole amount 
lost; there Is still some, a good lot. of Ihe money missing. Sup- 
pose they were to turn up? Would they not give us a clow to the 
real perpetrators ol the theft?” 


198 


PAST AND LOOSE. 


“ It they were to turn up, certainly. But you see they have 
not turned up, and we might wait till doomsday before they did. 
Meggitt is sate enough, if you are waiting tor that.” 

“1 do not believe he will last long, all the same; things are 
going on pretty bad at the bank.” 

‘‘The bank may smash,” said Faske, reflectively; “indeed, 1 
think it must when such a thorough-paced scoundrel as Joseph 
Devas, alias, French Joe, alias Leon Lantim€che, is mixed up with 
its affairs. You might run him in, and you might run in Meggitt, 
and so get rid of two rogues, bid that won’t set Mr. Surtees iree.” 

“ Not necessarily; but it might lead to revelations, perhans con- 
fessions, from the guilty parties.” 

“Yes, you have got that chance,” said Faske, with some in- 
difference. The detective did not care much about confessions, 
which he considered a very bungling and inartistic manner of 
proving crime. 

“ Perhaps,” said Sir Richard, “ Surtees himself might help us 
now. We know several new tacts, and when he hears them he 
may suggest fresh clews. I am going down to Chatham in a day 
or two, as 1 have a special order to see him.” 

Meanwhile Meggitt waited anxiously for news of Leon. In the 
interval by great efforts he still staved oft the evil hour; managing 
to keep his head above water, but only from day to day and by the 
most desperate means. 

When hope was almost dead within him he once more beard of 
his accomplice. 

He was alone in his snug little dining-room in Victoria Square, 
when his servant brought him in a note. 

Meggitt opened the letter, but tc his surprise found nothing in- 
side but a small piece of printed paper — evidently a leaf lorn out 
from some small volume. The name of the book was printed on 
the top, “ The People cf Persia.” Just below was a device, 
stamped on the paper; a crown, and below it the initials C. C. P, 

Meggitt turned it over several times, puzzled at first to guess 
what it could mean. 

“ C. C. P. I” he repeated once or twice, “ and a crown? To be 
sure, Chatham Convict Prison, It is a message from Leon. At 
last!” 

But what did his friend and confederate, so far off and in du- 
rance, desire to say? There, was nothing at first to show; the page 
might be read through and through, backward and forward, up 
and down, but no message was conveyed. 


FAST AKD LOOSE. 


199 


“ 1 can’t make head or tail of this. 1 wonder whether the mes- 
senger can help.” 

And with that he rang the bell, and the man, who was waiting 
for an answer, was called in. A heavy-jowled, hang-dog-looking 
ruffian, in a shiny new suit, and black wide-awake hat. 

” What does this contain?” asked Meggilt. 

“ Can't 3 "ou find out? Don*l 3 'ou tumble to it? I’ll show you. 
See here.” 

I'he man took the leaf into his hand and held it closely up to 
his e 3 'e, ntar the light. 

‘‘ ‘ Trust — him. Do— what— he- says— Leon.’ There you have 
it, plain as print can say it.” 

Still 1 don’t see; you may be inventing it. Show it me — there,” 
said Meggitt,. suspiciously, pointing to the printed page. 

‘‘Well; look here. This is common print, but if you examine 
it closely 3 ^ou’Jl see that the letters here and there have got a scratch 
across them. D’ye twig? a fine scratch made with a pin. There, 
see for yourself. Read it first.” 

Sleggitt took the bit of paper, and read— 

‘‘ Their accownt was, i/rat the Persians had killed two Ihcusand 
mtn, and taken five thousanrZ pri.soners, wWh twelve guns. The 
real ^rut/t was soon learned, which reduced their advantage to three 
hundred killed, two guns taken, and five hundred prisoners. On 
being questioned why they exaggerated so much when they knew 
the rea^ facts must transpire, they said; If we did not kriow that 
your stubborn veracity would come in the way, we should have said 
ten times as much.’ 

‘‘ I understand. But why send this letter when you could tell 
me everything by word of mouth?” 

” He thought, over yonder ” — again the thumb over the shoulder 
— ” you might not believe me if I came without something to show; 
so that’s w'hat he contrived.” 

“ How did he arrange all this? Goon. Tell me all about it.” 

*' Well, guv’nor, it was this wa 3 '. Just a week ago French Joe 
—Leon ycu call him— came back to the ‘boat’ — to Chatham 
Prison, I mean. He’d been away belter nor a year or more, on 
ticket; but he must have got into trouble again, and had his ticket 
revoked. He was put, the day after he comes, Joe was. into our 
party, number 97; officer’s name Burgle, a real darkey-driver, had 
to do with niggers somewhere, and he kept us at it down in the 
fitting out basin on them mud-trucks till we hadn’t an ounce of 
flesh left amongst the lot of us. 


200 


PAST ANi) loose. 


“ Well, Joe coming in fresh was a bit slack, and out of gear, and 
he says to me— Bingle’s eye being elsewhere, and his ears nowheres 
at all I’d give a thousand counters to make uiy lucky.’ ‘ I’d 
change places with you for less than that, it we could swindle the 
screws. Nest Friday 1 put in my time— every hour.’ ‘ ’Tain’t 
possible,’ says he: ‘ they know us both a blooming sight too well. 
But, if you’re to be out in two or three days, do me a good turn, 
and I’ll make it worth your while.’ ‘ As how?’ says 1. ‘ 0.0 and 

see a friend ot mine with a message from me, and he’ll give you a 
couple ot monkeys. 1 don’t mean to stop on here, and if 1 can let 
my pal know he’ll arrange a plant to get me aw’ay.’ ‘ Will your 
pal trust me?’ says 1. * Yes, if 1 send a bit of a “ stifl.” ’ Wo 

bad no pen cr ink, you understand, nor writing-paper gilt edged, 
and smooth and shiny. But i had my library books— and Joe had 
none— and 1 tore out that there leaf you hold in your hand, and 
passed it to Joe. Ho made the scratches, as they show, and told 
me what he’d done.” 

“ Yes, yes. You’ve said all that before. But what is his plan?” 

“ I’ll tell you, guv’noi; Jot, you must understand, works down 
in ihe fitting-out basin, with 97 party. But they’re not alw'ays 
there. Now and again Bingle’s lot’s set to stack bricks. What 
you’ve got to do is to plant a suit of clothes— a pair of navvy’s 
corduroys very wide so as to pull over his heavy boots, a loose 
jacktt ditto, and a soft felt hat near the brick stack, and leave the 
rest to Joe.” 

” How on earth am 1 to plant them?” 

” All you’ve got to do is to go to Chatham, to the part of it they 
cfill New Brompton. At 197 Wellington Street you’ll find Mr. 
Wright, leastways the man that’s right, and on the square. Give 
luiu the office, and he’ll plant the clothes.” 

St. Mary’s Island, Chathani, was a scene of extraordinary activ- 
ity. The place was like a bee-hive under the blazing autumn sun. 
The eye as it w’andered about tell everywhere on men at w'ork; 
here clustered in groups around the rriud-trucks, there singl}' or in 
twos and threes plate laying. Elsewhere a long procession on a 
” barrow run,” ‘‘ pugging up,” the brick-machine, or wheeling 
bricks to the diying-ground or kiln. 

They were all convicts. Convicts were sawing at the benches in 
the carpenters’ shops, hammering at anvils, cutting and dressing 
stone; convicts drove Ihe sla'it nary steam-engine at the top of the 
incline and the barro\v-lilis, the horses that brorrght up the mud- 
wagons to the ” tips,” the steain-saws; even the locomotives which 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


201 


were inliusterl to a few iu blue dress— the badge of expiring seivi- 
t ude. 

But busy as was the scene, crowded as it was with more than a 
thousand felon workman all forced lo strenuous unremitting toil, a 
strange silence prevailed. 

Such ncises as rarely broke the silliness from time lo lime were 
inseparable trom the business in hand: the puff of the steam-en- 
gines; the rattle of the empty trucks as they rolled headlong down 
the incline; an occasional crack of a \\hip. But the human voice 
was seldom raised aloud, except when the warders in charge of 
parties saw superiors approach Iheni, and reported by shout and 
gesture; raising their right hand with such cries as ‘‘97 party, sir; 
twenty-four men; all correct, sir.” 

Ninety-seven party had been working in the clay, but when their 
tiucks were full they were sent to another job. They were marched 
regularly and with military precision to anollier part of the works. 
Here in old limes tlicre had bein fortifications lo defend the muddy 
cieek, now long since filled up and built upon; but a part of the old 
wall still stood, and on the other side of it wois a bathing-pond, fed 
by a pipe from the river, and used frequently at this season by the 
officers of the garrison. 

The w'ork now before them — the “bye-job” — was that which 
Dellew had spoken of in his visit to Mcggitt.- A long line of trucks 
had brouglit a supply of brand-new bricks from tbe brick-fields; 
these Mr Bingle’.s men had to sort and put away. 

For this purpose they opened out, and, making one long string 
from the trucks to the stack, passed the bricks quickly along from 
hand to hand. 

Leon was at the far end of the line, jest where it crossed an old 
pathway, which led from the dock-yard to the village ot Gilling- 
ham. 

bile he was there a free workman, who had long been wait- 
ing his opportunity, came by, walking fast, and seemingly cu his 
way lioiue. 

lie passed through the line of convicts, within ear-shot of Leon. 

“ To-morrow,” he whispered. “ By the pond. Clothes.” 

And that was all Leon needed to know that his embassy to Mcg- 
giit had prospered. 

He passed a restless night. Thb failure ot the first attempt made 
him all the more anxious about ibis. There were people working 
against him, enemie.s as bold as himself, far cleverer and more cun- 
ping than his only ally Weggitt, 


202 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


“ It 1 am caught, it’ll mean a ‘ bashing ’ anti the ‘ slangs.’ ” He 
would be flogged and obliged to wear chains. “ 1 should never get 
another chance; they’d send me to the other end ol the island, 
where 1 couldn’t get away. It’s dangerous, but 1 am going to risk 
it all the same. It the clothes are there I’ll go. It all depends 
upon whethei Bingle misses me soon. But lei me get five min- 
utes’ start and I’ll give ’em leg-bail. The barkers may shoot, but 
they’ll hardly hit me, unless they aim at some one else — the fools.” 

Next morning soon alter daylight they went to the works; and 
were tallied out, party by party, each warder answering tor his 
number, and bound to bring hack as many, dead or alive. 

Mr. Bingle, with number 97, went down at once into the basin. 
The same interminable job began then: truck-filling from morning 
to night, with intervals, now and again, cf stacking bricks. 

They had only one spell of the latter that forenoon. It came 
early in the day, too soon for Leon to avail himselt of it. There 
was danger in going off while the day was still young; all cfiflccrs 
and guards were more on the alert in the morning, and there was 
longer and more daylight for pursuit. After dinner was a better 
time. Warders had been known to nod when digestion was in prog- 
re.ss after a heavy midday meal; while the chances in favor ot 
the fugitive increased the nearer darkness approached. 

As Leon eat his prison allowance in his cell at midday, he ear- 
nestly hoped that Bingle might dine well. 

” 1 hope his missus won’t stint him, and that he’ll have a pint or 
two of four ale. I’ve seen him drowsy before now of an afternoon. 
Why shouldn’t he be the same to-day? It will all depend on 
whether 1 can elude his eye for long enough the first go-off.” 

The afternoon arrangements were precisely those of the early morn- 
ing; the labor-parties were formed and marched out as before. As 
before, Leon found himselt in the basin shoveling clay into the 
trucks. But after an hour of truck-filling, the usual move to the 
brick-stack followed as a matter ot course, and at last the time was 
ripe for his second attempt at escape. 

Leon, with feverish anxiety, had watched his opportunity, and 
at last that opportunity had arrived. 

” I'm off,” he said to his male, w'ho stood nearest him; “ going 
to make my lucky ! Don’t peach.” 

’* Not 1. They’ll find you out fast enough for themselves. Wot 
are you bidding lor a bashing tor? Stop where you are.” 

” Keep your eye on the nigger-driver— tell me it you see hini 
pod,” was all Leon answereif. 


PAST AND LOOSE. 203 

“ 1 expect he’s sound enough now, toi a miou'e or more. It 
you’re going, go !” 

Next instant Leon had disappeared behind the brick stack, and 
stooping low he crawled rapidly along, wriggling forward like a 
snake upon his belly to the point where the free man had planted 
the clothes. 

All this time his eat was cocked keen as that of a hare on its form 
foi the first sound of the warder’s whistle — the first signal to pro 
claim the escape. 

But Bingle was dozing on still. 

Quickly Leon reached the precious hding-place, extracted the 
clothes, drew the fustian overalls over Lis boots and knee breeches, 
got into the coat, put on the wide-awake, and stood up erect, to 
all outward appearance a free man. 

Still Bingle made no sign. "With a bound Leon cleared the low 
wall that bordered the bathing-pond, and made for ihe dcor on the 
fur side. 

There was no one bathing there, not a soul in sight. Still no 
whistle had been sounded, no alarm given. In another minute 
Leon would be nearly sate and beyond pursuit. 

But no, not quite yet. With a start and an inward qualm which 
for a second or two paralyzed all motion he heard the loud shrill 
notes of a whistle, then another in answer, tno, three, a dozen, till 
the whole place seemed alive witli piping bullfrogs or screeching 
grasshopper?. 

Air Bingle had awoke suddenly; his men were standing idle, the 
brick-trucks were empty, the job was done. 

“ Fall ini” he ciied; and, preparatory to marching back to the 
basin, he began to count the convicts in his charge. 

•• One, two, three— twen‘y-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twen- 
ty Where was twenty-four? ” Twenty-f our! twenty-four I” 
Gone!” 

Bingle realized at once w^hat had happened. It was an escape, and 
he must signal it, as well as his own disgrace. 

Meanwhile, where was Leon? 

On the footpath under the shelter of a high brick wall, which 
inclosed a great part of the works. This wall concealed him from 
the sentries above, and from the warders on the island, who were 
just about to be launched in pursuit. 

But he would soon pass beyond this friendly protection. The 
footpath led to the open fields and river reaches, interposing 1)3- 
tween the island and the village. 


204 


PAST AND LOOSE. 


flow was he to get oft it ancl out of sight? 

What were these buildiugs close on his right? A. low range of 
two-storied houses with a wide veiauda running in front of the 
second floor. Barracks! ies, they w'ere barracks; he had heard 
some of his comrades on the works say so, as they pointed to their 
open unprotected fronts, and laughingly wished for a chance to 

crack ” them. 

*■ Where are the ofiicers’ quarters, 1 wonder? At this end? It 
would be odd," said Leon, hastily, as a thcugbt flashed across his 
mind, “ gallows odd, it 1 was helped in my escape by that play I 
savv at the Royal Roscius, ruoie than a year ago.” 

Turning off tlie path he made up the slope straight for the bar- 
racks They were casemates, and Ibis was the glacis. 

A ditch; then a high palisading. Next a gate not locked. He 
passed through it and out on to the grass-plot before the buildings. 

” Here goes,” he cried; ‘‘ for one of those cribs upstairs. These 
on the ground-floor appear to be fast locked.” 

Next instant he was inside a room, one of the oflScers’ quarters, 
furiously lummaging the cupboards and drawers. From the first 
he took down a complete suit of clothes; from the latter a couple 
of sovereigns and a handful of silver. 

“ That’s all 1 want except boots, and here are plenty, if they will 
only fit.” 

And then Leon, with extraordinary rapidity, divested himself of 
his heavy convict’s boots, and the clothes provided for his escape, 
widch he hid in a great iron coal-box in one corner; as quickly he 
put <m those which he had just appropriated, including a pair of 
neat shoes, and a billycock hat. 

” If I’m not nabbed now, in the next three minutes, by the Lord, 
I shalt be a free man.” 

lie had still to leave the barracks, but the road lay straight and 
open before him. There was no one to interfere with trim; on the 
contrary, the soldiers he now met in twos and threes drew up and 
saluted him as he passed. They took him in his neat clothes, as 
lie walked along erect and consequential, for an officer of the 
garrison, who had called to see a friend. 

So he passed through the barrack-gates, and out on to the main 
road. Luck still favored him. Almost directly he emerged, an 
empty fly passed which he hailed. 

” Chatham Station!” he cried as he jumped in. “ Look alive.” 

•• There’s just time, sir, if you’re going up by the boat express; 
she’s not due till four fifty, ami it’s barely the half hour.” 


FAST AKD LOOSE. 


205 


Right you aie. Don’t miss it, and I’ll give you double fare.” 
They arrived at the station just as the express from Dover rattled 
into the station. Leon had time io take a tirst-class ticket, reach 
tlie up platforrn, and secure a seat before the train started again. 

Narrow squeak that!” said the fugitive to the company, gen- 
erally , as he sunk into his seat. At last he <pas safely out of Chat- 
ham; there was but one stoppage beiween it and London; and 
even if they knew he was in the train, which seemed impossible, 
tliry would have a difficulty rn recognizing him in his new dis- 
guise. 

bo Leon reasoned, and fairly enough. The chances were a thou- 
sand to one in his favor; yet at the time when he thought himself 
most sate he was in the greatest danger. 

lie liad been seen and recognized as he passed up the train seek- 
ing a seat. Sir Richard Daunt and I3ob Surtees were also passen- 
gers by it. They had been down to pay their visit to Mr. Surtees, 
and were returning early to town, 

“ BobI did you see?” whispered Sir Richard, in great excite- 
ment. 

” Of course. But 1 could not believe my eyes. Surely, it can’t 
be that scoundrel, and with all that red hair?” 

“ He is red now: that’s how 1 know him.” 

” lie must have escaped. What a daring, artful rogue! Any- 
how. he’s fallen into the lion’s mouth; we’ll give him into custody 
again at Victoria.” 

” I’m not so sure cf that,” said Daunt, thoughtfully. 

“ What shall we do tlien?” 

” Stick to him like wax wherever he goes. But we must be care- 
ful; on no account must he see us.” 

A t Vretoria they saw Leon get out, and without looking to right 
or left hail a hansom and drive oft. 

‘‘ Quick. Bob, we must be after that cab in another. Jump in!” 
and Sir Richard hastily gave the necessary instructions to their 
driver. 

‘‘ Keep that cab in sight, and you shall have half-a-sovereign be- 
sides your fare.” cried Daunt, as he and Bob got into another. 

“ Right, guv’nor,” and then the chase began. 

” He is making for his old haunt in Se7en Dials.” said Daunt. 
”‘110 wants cash to pay his way out ot the country.” 

“ You think he meacs to leave the country?” 

” Without doubt. It’s his onl} chance. But no more talking; 
^ee, his cab has shipped.” 


200 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


Yes. The cab, which had led up Trafalgar ISquare, had stopped 
just opposite St. Martin’s Church. 

Leon alighted, paid his fare, and walked oft up the street. 

“ .Just as 1 thought,” said Daunt, as the}’ followed also on foot. 
“ There he goes — straight for the Hotel GaiUard.” 

” You know it communicates with that filthy place where 1 was 
shut up so long?” cried Bob, with a shudder. 

” Perfectly, and we must watch both issues,” replied Daunt. 
” Y'ou had better take the other side, at least for the present; you 
know your way. Look sharp. Bob; keep out of sight, mind, and 
I’ll join you as soon as I can.” 

Daunt, left to himself, decided to send word as socn as possible 
tD Faske. 

” Y^e’d belter have the police with us. Some one must watch on 
tins sic’.e, and 1 doii’t like to leave Bob all by himself. He might get 
into trouble. But liow shall I sand a message to Scotland Yard?” 

He scribbled a few lines on a sheet torn out of his pocket-book, 
and looked round for a messenger. 

Ere long he spied the constable of the beat approachine with 
measured steps. 

‘‘ Quick!” he whispered. “ I have traced an escaped convict, who 
is ‘ wanted ’ tor another job, to this house. Mr. Faske— Inspector 
Faske — ought to know. Can you gel this sent him without less of 
timel” 

“Ay, ay, sir. Cab!” said the constable, with commendable 
brevity. 

Half an hour .later Faske in person joined Daunt, who gave the 
detective a short outline of what had occurred. 

‘‘ Will you take charge cn this side. Faske? 1 should like to join 
Mi. Surtees on the other.” 

Daunt found Bob waiting patiently, and keeping a strict look- 
out. 

Sir Richard looked at his watch. 

” A quarter to ssven. We shall not have long to wait. If he is 
going by one of the continental routes, as 1 fully expect, he will 
soon have to be moving” 

Even as Daunt spoke the rioor of the den whicu they were watch- 
ing was opened cautiously, and a man— Leon, no doubt, just his 
height, and with the tell-tale hang of the left leg— issued forth. 

He was in a fresh disguise, that of a Dutchman; a sea faring, 
broadly*bulU ship cRpinla, wUh a roll iu his gait, and all in blue 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


207 


cloth. But he carried a lillle not very nauticai-lookin" hand-bag, 
and his movements were a liltle too brusque and active for the part 
he had assumed. lie went straight as a die ior St. Martin’s Lane. 
There he called the first hansom cab, and they distinctly heard him 
say “ Liverpool Street,” as he was driven off. 

“ After him. Bob! Don’t lose sight ot him. I’ll come on as 
soon as I’ve picked up Faske. He’s going by Harwich to Antwerp 
or Rotterdam.” 

Bob hailed a hansom, and tollowed as directed. 

It was nearly half past seven when the two cabs reached the ter- 
minus. 

Leon leaped out, and made straight for the continental hooking- 
otlice. Bob, .iust behind him, heard him say: — 

” First to Brussels, via Harwich.” 

And then the youmr man’s eagerness abruptly ended the pursuit. 
He pressed too far forward, Leon turned suddenly, and fell into his 
arms. 

Both fugitive and pursuer seemed staggered, but ihe latter was 
the first to recover himself. Leon hoped that Mr. Surtees did not 
recognize him, and, putting a bold face on ths mishap, tried to 
make off. 

But Bob, terribly afraid ot losing his prey, stopped him: 

‘‘Hold on, Mr. Marquis, or whatever .you cull yourself, I’ve 
soraethirrg to say to j'ou.” 

‘‘ 1 don’t know you— who art you— what do you mean?” asked 
Leon, with some effrontery. 

‘‘ If J'OU don’t knew me 1 do you. Shall 1 call out and tell every 
one here in Ihe station that you are a convict just escaped from 
Chatham, that the police are at your heels, and that there is a re- 
ward offered for your recapture?” 

Already a small crowd had collected around the disputants, and 
Leon looked uneasily at Surtees. It he had thought of using force, 
a little consideration assured him that it would be futile. The odds 
were heavily against him. 

He preferred to try stratagem. 

‘‘ This is too public a place, we can net speak without being over- 
heard; come into the waiting-room ot the refreshment-room.” 

‘‘ The waiting room will do,” said Bob. He was thinking of his 
friends. Daunt and the detective, who could not be fur off. They 
would have started only a few minutes later, and must arrive at 
Liverpool Street within that interval. 


208 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


“ Mr. Surtees, don’t be too hard on me. Was it not natural that 
1 should try to get away? Your father would have done the same.” 

‘‘ You villain! It is by your plots and machinations that he is 
there at all. You know he is innocent.” 

‘‘ 1 do, perfectly; and 1— but 1 alone— can prove it. 1 will do 
so, gladly, if you will let me go.” 

Bob did not answer immediately. It was a great temptation. 

But if I were to let you go, how could you prove my father’s 
innocence? You would not be here.” 

” It can be proved by what 1 have here in my bag,” and Leon 
held up the little black traveling-bag. 

‘‘ What is it?’ Bob was only seeking to gain time. 

” 1 will leave it— it contains certain documents long missing— in 
your hands, as the train leaves the station. Is it a bargain?” 

” And those papers will exonerate my father, eh? Are they the 
rest of the stolen bonds?” 

Leon looked surprised, but he replied readily enough, ‘‘You’ve 
hit it. That’s just what they are. Come, will you trade?” and he 
opened the bag, which seemed heavily laden, and was indeed stufied 
full of securities, stock certificates, and so forth. 

” 1 might have accepted your terms,” said Bob, smartly, “ only ” 
— he had caught sight of Daunt with Faeke, passing through the 
outer booking-olHce to the platform—”! mean to have them for 
nothing. Here, Richard 1” 

“Copped again!” cried Leon swearing loudly, as he looked 
round, wild, affrighted, like a wild beast at bay, vainly seeking a 
loop-hole of escape. 

“ It’s no go, Devas!” said Faske, softly, as he produced a pair 
of handcuffs. “ This is the second time 1 have had the pleasure of 
spoiling your little game. You had better come quietly. The 
station is full of people, and I have only to call for help in the 
name of the law.” 

“ Look out for the bag,” cried Bob, hastily. “ Its contents are 
valuable.” 

“ What are they?” asked Daunt. 

“ The missing bonds I believe, with other securities.” 

And they quickly examined the contents of the bag. 

There they were; the balance of the Portuguese bonds abstracted 
from the strong-room, making up with the number found in Mr. 
Surtees’s deed-box the whole quantity stolen. 

“ See, Fuske, this is what you wanted to convince you,” said 
Daunt, smiling, and in high glee. 


FAST AKD LOOSF. ' ^09 

“ It remains lo be shown how other people had a’ccess to the 
strong-room, and Mr. Surtees’s locks.” 

” We’ll do that, never fear. I see my way clearly non, quite.’' 


chapter XXXIV. 

A RUN ON THE BANK. 

It was all in the morning papers. A paragraph headed ‘‘ Escape 
ot a Convict from Chatham ” told also of his recapture. 

Meggitt saw it in ” The Times ” at breakfast. 

He had reason to be very dejected as he went down that morning 
to the hank, and the news which greeted him on arrival did not 
serve to reassure him. 

Directly he entered the parlor the cashier came in. 

” 1 am glad to see you, sir; in fact, 1 was waiting for you 
anxiously. Something very unpleasant has occurred. Two ot our 
bills tor large amounts have been protested by Rothschilds.” 

” 1 will step round to !New Court myself, and see what ihis 
means,” said Meggitt, easily. 

But Meggitt’s assurance was only skin deep: he had but too good 
reason to know that this was only the first of many similar bills. 
The credit of the bank had been already impugned, and its real 
condition was becoming known to the great leaders of the financial 
world, The crowd would soon take up the cry, and it would prob- 
ably be impossible to make head against the storm. 

What should he do? was the first thought. To go off altogether? 
‘‘ No, it is premature,” he said. ” By waiting a day or two I may 
be able lo lay my hands on a good round sum, sufficient, perhaps, 
to last me till 1 can make a new start at the other end of the 
world.” 

Cupidity got the better of caution, and Meggitt decided to go 
back to the bank. 

He had been away fully halt an hour, but in the interval a crowd 
had collected round its doors. 

“ What is it?” asked Meggitt, as he pushed his way excitedly 
through the throng. 

” A run on the bank,” said some one, as he passed out. 

Meggitt took in the situation a' a elance, and passed on into the 
parlor, where the cashier again joined him. 

“ How long will it last?” asked Meggitt. 


310 


PAST AND LOOSE. 


“ Certuinly not beyond the day,” answered (he cashier. 

Then Mr. Waldo arrived, and decided to draw upon reserves, 
Mcfigitt went, and on Ins return from the Bank of England Mr. 
Waldo asked, in so many words, 

‘‘ Whai amount have you brought? It should be one hundred 
and fifty thousand pounds,” 

iMcggitt flushed crimson, and stammered out: 

” Not so much, sir. The reserve is only seventy-nine thousand 
pounds.” 

” Impossible! It can not have been reduced. I shall require 
explanation; the very fullest,” said the old banker, sternly. 

The run still continued. 

‘‘ We must appeal to our friends. 1 had ^jiany; surely some 
will help us now in our sore distress,” said old Mr. Waldo. 

But Mr. Waldo found little encouragement and less support. 
Already it was forced in on him, by the unanswerable logic of 
hard facts, that Meggitt was a scoundrel, a rascal; a dishonest 
rogue, who ha'l played fast and loose with the bank. 

‘‘ 1 should like to see him directly he returns,” said Mr. Waldo, 
shortly. 

But he a‘<ked in vain. Three, tour, five o’clock came, but no 
Meggitt What did arrive was far more damning evidence against 
the absent man. 

Tlie run on the bank h id not been confinr d to specie payments. 
Several old clients had called or sent for securities deposited in the 
sirong-roorn. 

They were not (o be found. 

Once more Mr. W’aldo sent post haste to Mr. Paske, and put the 
aftair iit liis hands. From Faske he learned everything; the truth 
about Leon LautimSche the false marquis, Meggitt’s treachery, and 
above all the wrongful sentence passed upon the old cashier. 

Meggitt, meanwhile, had hurried home, laid hands on all prop- 
erly, jewels,- bonds, and so forth, convertible into cash, and made 
up his mind to start that night for Havre md Southampton, intend- 
ing to take the Saturday steamer of the French Transatlantic Com- 
pany for New York. 

But he lingered just to have one last dinner at his club. A 
basin of turtle soup, a brace of grouse, end a sweetbread curry, 
were set before him iu turn, and he did ample justice to all; but 
he was not satisfied wilh the curry. He sent for the house-steward, 
and complained. 

” There is too much turmeric iu the curry-powder, you ought 


Fast and loose. ^11 

to get another kind; see to It, will you? It is a favorite dish ot 
mine, and 1 don’t want to complain again next time 1 dine.” 

Next time! fie had done with dinners at the Junior Belgrave 
for many a long year to come. His meals, in future, would be 
spare and simple enough— the bread of shame, moistened by the 
waters of vain legiet. 

But Megeitt bad no idea that arrest was so near at hand. He 
left the club, fully confident that he had stolen a march upon his 
enemies, and that within a few hours he would be safe from pur- 
suit. 

It was a terrible shock to him to meet Faske face to face as he 
came down the marble steps of the club. 

“ I want you,” said the police officer; ‘‘ I have a warrant.” 

” Where are you going to take me to?” asked Meggitt, sur- 
rendering on the spot, and in a complete state of collapse. 

Vine Street lock-up for to-night, and to-morrow the Mansion 
House and Clerkenwell.” 


CHAPTFJR XXXV. 

NEWS FOR ALL. 

Although the run on Waldo’s was generally known, the city 
arl’cles in the morning papers spoke with some caution on the sub- 
ject. It was no secret, they said, that an old and much respected 
banking-firm had experienced st.roe difirculty in meeting its engage- 
ments, but there was every reason to hope that the storm would 
blow over. 

The afternoon papers, how’evcr, told a different tale. Meggitl's 
ariest was announced, with a short account of his preliminary 
examination. No bank, however sound, could well survive the 
I)ublication of such details, still less one like Waldo’s, w'hich was 
already tcttering to its fall. 

Early in the afternoon Waldo’s put up their shutters. The bank 
had suspended payment with liabilities of upward of two hundred 
thousand pounds. 

This was the news which was disseminated through the length 
and bieadth of the land on the second morning. 

It was read and freely conmientcd upon everywhere. The Bo- 
nastrcs, imw on a provinci.il lour, discussed it with their late break- 
fast at Leeds. 


212 


PAST AND LOOSE. 


“ Deuced lucky, Rina, that 1 got out when 1 did,” said the hard- 
headed lessee of the Royal Roscius. 

“And that Meggitt, what a thoroughpaced rascall” added his 
wife. “ But 1 always thought it.” 

Others thought so, too, including Lord Wingspur, who chuckled 
gieatly over the news. 

“ They can’t bully me any more, begad, because 1 owe them a 
few pounds.” 

“ Are you in their debt, then?” he was asked. 

“ Yes; mortgages on the Scotch estates.” 

“ You don’tsuppose because they smash you won’t have to pay?” 

“ How do you mean? 1 don’t understand. 1 never w'as goad 
at business.” 

“ Why, cf course, the creditors of the bank will come down upon 
you to the uttermost iarlhing.” 

“The brutes!” — his lordship meant the Waldos, not the credit- 
ors— “ to think that they should expose me to this. 1 shall lose 
the land 1 suppose?” 

The last whom the news reached were those most concerned. 
Several days elapsed before authentic intelligence arrived at Dal- 
na-Muick. 

Some one in the smoking-room took up a newspaper two or three 
days old — the papers came regularly, but no one read them much, 
they were not a literary lot at Dal-na-Muick —and in this paper w'as 
a' reference to the recent failure at Waldo’s tank. 

It was pointed out to Horace Wingspur; he went and told his 
sisters, but neither of them would believe a word. 

“Mother would have been sure to know,” said Clara. 

Mrs. Waldo’s stormy interview with Meggitt had long since pre- 
pared her for some dire intelligence, but she hardly thought it 
w ould come so soon. 

She hid her face in her hands when they told her the dire intelli- 
gence. Retribution, swift and overwhelming, had fallen upon her. 
Ruin, dire ruin, shame, beggary, disgrace, would be her portion 
now and for the future. 

“ What will become of us all?” she gasped. 

There was a family council as to what should be done. Mrs. 
Waldo was for returning at once to Kew; she had some glimmer- 
ing sense of good feeling left, and she filt that her proper place 
would be there, at her husband’s side. 

“ I shall wire to Helena to-day, and act as your father wishes,” 

But Mr. Waldo was in no condition to send instructions to his 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


213 


absent taniily. Tnc answer that came from Helena was lUat he 
had had a paralytic seizuie, and lay at death’s door. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

DAUNT ’S REWARD. 

The day after Meggitt’s arrest was a busy one for Daunt. Fol- 
lowing Faske’s advice he went fiisl to Saville Row and had a long 
talk with Mr. Liljeaith. Thence he went to the Home Office, and 
saw the same high personage that he had interviewed before. 

Well, 1 don’t deny that you have a strong case. Sir Richard, 
but still many of your facts have got to be proved; what do you 
waul us to do?” 

” 1 think Mr. Surtees ounht to be released conditionally.” 

“That’s out of the question; a sentence of penal servitude can 
not be set aside in that easy fashion. But 1 tell you what I ivill 
do: the man shall be brought up to Millbank. He ought to be 
close at hand in case you want to consult him.” 

Daunt thanked the great personage and withdrew. Then he 
hastened to Victoria, and took the first train to Chatham. 

“ You bring good news,” said Josephine, directly she saw him. 
He had gone straight to her. 

“ The very best.” 

She did not ask him to explain befoie they were alone, and then 
he w'ould say nothing till he had taken her into his arms. 

“ At last, at lastl” he cried, passionately, kissing her again. 

“ Richard, please, you must not; remember!” murmured Jose- 
phine, as she sought, vainly, to withdraw from his caresses. 

" Our compact is ended almost. You are now my own; I have 
won you tairly, and on your own terms.” 

“ Are you certain that you have succeeded, Richard? You are 
not claiming your reward ’’—she smiled at him through her tears- 
“ too soon?” 

“ Your father will be released within a month; 1 can almost 
promise you that. ^Nothing can be settled finally till alter Meggitt’s 
trial. Meanwhile, Josephine, you must be preparing to welcome 
him home.” 

“ Where am I to go?” 

“ Back to the old home, of course. 1 have arranged it all. The 
tenant will vacate at once, and you must go and keep house tor 


214 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


Bob until your iaiber returns, and then — we will be luarried from 
theie.” 

Josephine could not speak— her heart was too full; but she found 
a lew words at last, spoken in a soft low whisper as her head lay 
against his bieast. 

“ Yes, Richard, if you will take me. But I am not worthy. 
\'ou are too good, too—" 

Daunt silenced her in the readiest way a lover can. 

After many fond adieus Daunt lore himself away. Snatching a 
hurried dinuet he tiaveled on to Dover, and look the night-mail 
to Paris. 

Daunt paid an early visit to the Prefecture next day, and explained 
1o M. Acme the last service he required. 

“ Fanchette? Ves, she is here, we have kept our tye on her as 
ycu wished, and now you want her to speak out? Is that it, mon 
cJicr Sir Daunt? we may persuade her, 1 Ihiuk,” and he touched a 
hand-bell. “ Have this mandat taken to the Rue du Bac,” he said 
to his himsier. " 1 wish to see the person named in it at once — 
here." 

Presently Fanchette, smart and coquettish as ever, was ushered 
in. 

She started at seeing Daunt seated there, and looked from him 
to the chef. 

“There is nothing to fear, madame ’’—the chief consulted a 
paper in front of him — “ Poirat, yes, Poirat. Your assistance is 
needed in a cause which wdll be heard in London shortly. The 
prisoners are Percy Aleggilt and Joseph Devas, aZras Leon Lanti— 
in6che. 

“ ] know nothing; 1 shall say nothing," replied I'anchette. dog- 
getlly. 

“ Pardon me. On further consideration 1 think you will.” 

“ 1 will pay you anything in reason to appear," put in Daunt, 
hasiily. 

“ A moment, monsieur. Justice is not to be bought. Madame 
Poirat will come forward out of pure good feding, 1 thirik.” 

Fanchette did not look much like it just then. 

At least, it Madame Poirat won’t, Leonie Fanchette Jocasse, 
dii La Felluse, dit Caramel, dii Palata, will do so, 1 feel sure." 

Fanchette lurntd very pale. 

There was little 'cubt after that of her appearance as a witness 
at the trial. 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


215 


CHAPTEll XXXVll. 

I 

THE WEB UNRAVELED. 

; Meggitt’8 trial caused j^real excitement in the city. There was 
a marked contrast between the two prisoners as they stood siue by 
side in the dock. Meggilt was dressed with extreme care, in Irock 
’ coat, satin tie, and kia gloves, as though he was going to a wed- 
ding and not to his doom. But his aspect was woe-begoue and 
abject — he seemed overcome by the shame and disgrace of his posi- 
tion. Leon, on the contrary, although wearing the garb of the 
felon — a hideous patch woru of drab and yellow, with neglected 
beard and close-cropped hair — held himself erect, and looked 
around the court with a defiant air. His dark, evil eye rested for 
a moment on thej'udge, keenly scanning his impressive features, 
vainly striving to read upon them some forecast of his fate. 

After all, Leon was better off than Meggitt. Ho was arraigned 
there as the lesser ciiminal— a partner in, but not, as he really was, 
the originator of Meggitt ’s guilt; joined with Meggitt in the con- 
spiracy, for the more especial advantage and aggrandizement of the 
j latter. 

j Meggitt, the trusted, esteemed, confidential employ^, stood out as 
j the chief culprit in the frauds and misappropriations now brought 
to light. 

The case was strong against him, and looked veiy black from 
the first. It was skillfully and pertinently stated by the attorney- 
general, who prosecuted on behalf of the Crown. This attorney- 
general was no other than Sir Silas Standaloft, who had defended 
Mr. Surtees, and who had since entered Parliament and risen to a 
high office under a newly-appointed ministry. 

Sir Silas licked his lips and went at Meggitt tooth and nail. 

I shall show and prove in evidence,” said Sir Silas, having 
. freely lubricated his lips, preparatory to a great effort, ‘‘ 1 shall 
; show how the prisoner, making use of information he had received, 
procured the appointment within the precincts of Mr. Waldo’s 
house of a creature devoted to his own interests, who was em- 
j ployed as personal attendant to Mrs. Waldo, and having the run 
» of the private apartments. This person was found for him by the 
i other prisoner, Devas, between wdrom and Meggitt a close alliance 
^ had been formed. By the instrumentality of this woman— a clever 


216 


FAST AKD LOOSE. 


anti unscrupulous I'renclnvoman— a false key lo the stronp^-room 
was obtained. Sbe is here, and she will tell herselt how it was 
done.’* 

At ihis slatenoent a gleam ol baleful light flashed irom Leou’s 
dark eyes. 

“ Having thus obtained access, at will and secret!}’, to the strong- 
room, it was easy lo abstract any nuinbLr ol securities and valu- 
ables. But at this point simple lobbery was not their object. 
They were playing a tar deeper game; they were conspiring to 
bring the whole resources of the bank under iheir control. For 
this purpose it was essential to get the cashier out ot the way, the 
honest and unsuspecting superior, who would have soon detected 
and put an end to any toul play. This they accomplished in a 
cruel and unscrupulous manner, with u result well knewu to your 
lordship and to others in this court. 

“ 1 shall be able to show you how they smuggled into Mr. Sur- ' 
tees’s possession some of the stolen bonds, and thus gave strength 
and color to the grievous accusation under which the poor mao 
succumbed; 1 will prove to you that JMeggitt had access at will to. ; 
the cashier’s drawers and boxes, that ho had false ke^'s to all of ■ 
them — ” i 

Sensation in court. ' 

“ That he abstracted trem one of them an old contract ti r the 
purchase of certain Prutuguesc stock, a contract whicii Mr. Surtees 
naturally could not produce at his trial, and the existence of which 
he had, unfortunately, forgotten. By this means Mr. Surtees was 
prevented from proving that he had long possessed securities — 
similar to those stolen— of h's own. It will be proved lo your 
satisfaction that these bonds were also abstracted, and a part of the 
stolen bonds— those stolen from the strong-room — were substituied 
for them. In support of this 1 shall produce the contract of whit 1\ 

1 have spoken; the bonds which were were Mr. Surtees’s pri.p rly, 
and— mark this well— the balance of the stolen bonds. 1 he whole, 
of these damnatory and convincing proofs were found in the pos- 
session of one or other ot the prisoners.” 

Sir Silas here paused lo give full efleci to his words. 

Then amidst breathless silence he continued; 

“ After these facts have been fully established, and 1 have not 
the slightest doubt that 1 shall do so, au act ot tardy justice will, 

1 trust, be done to the first, and, 1 think the chief, victim of these ! 
vile machinations. An innocent man, my lord and gentlemen of 
the jury— an innocent, a much- wronged and deeply suflering man ' 


fAST AND LOOSE. 


21 ? 


— cries aioud from the depths of the gloomy prison-cell to which 
the ciatty knavery of these villains consigned liim— he cries aloud, 
I say, for restitution, revindication, rehabilitation, and redress. 
Mercy and justice — pardon, apology and compensation— must be 
dealt out promptly, and without stint to that grievously ill-used 
man.” 

Sir Silas wiped his eyes, blew his nose, licked his lips, and 
^e. med as much affected as his hearers at this impassioned harangue. 

Presently he went on: 

‘‘It is not ditBcull to trace the further proceedings of this 
precious pair. Fortune, or rather misfortune, favored them. A 
very lax control seems to have been exercised over the new cashier; 
one partner, now deceased, was a dilettante and a virtuoso, who 
had practically withdrawn from affairs. The other, through sick- 
ness, was unable to keep this Meggitt in his place; and it is im- 
possible to withhold some sympathy from Mr. Waldo, whose neg 
lect and overconfidence dated cnly from his own initbilit 3 ’ to attend 
closely to business. 1 bus Meggitt soon got his head. Une of ids 
first acts was to introduce to the bank, as a most eligible and valu- 
able client, this fiiend and confederate, the man who, clothed in the 
garb of shame, stands there by his side; the man who, assuming 
a fictitious title and all the airs of a nobleman, was a< that very 
moment a convict on ticket-of-leave. 

” What follows is told in the books of the bank; they will be 
produced in court, and they will lay bare the vast and intricate 
frauds conceived b}'^ these consummate rogues, the boldness with 
which they were carried out, and all the clever shifts and artful 
contiivances by which they were concealed almost to the last. It 
w’ill be shown you bow the chief conspirator misappropriated and 
made awaj^ with the property of the bank, with its own funds, 
and with the securities intrusted to his care. Some of these tveie 
found in his possession, some in that of his confederate; others, to 
a large extent, have been sold to cover defalcations; and the 
brokers, through whom and by w'hom they were sold, will go into 
the witness-box and swear that they acted under instructions from 
Meggitt. It is not strange that the bank should break after being 
thus pillaged and plundered right and left; and that there should 
be at this moment scmewhere, but entirely unaccounted for, a sum 
of nearly two hundred thousand pounds, which has passed out of 
the assets of the bank into the keeping of one or otber or both 
these prisoners at the bar.” 

It is not necessary to follow Sir Silas Standaloft further. The 


PAST AND LOOSE. 


2ia 

learned counsel was tedious, though eloquent, and his speech lasted 
several hours. But when he sat down and his junior began to call 
the witnesres, it was lelt that neither of the prisoners had the ghost 
of a chance. 

Fanchette’s evidence was especially damaging, although Leon’s 
evil eye was upon her throughout. She spoke out openly, and 
confessed aU she knew. She had come from Paris on purpose to 
take service with Mrs. Waldo. She had watched her opportunity, 
anil entered. Mr. Waldo’s dressing-room one morning while he was 
at his bath, and had taken the impression of the key. This she 
had done more than once under the prisoner Leon, or Devas’s in- 
structions. 

The judge’s summing-up was clear tor conviction, and the ver- 
dict of guilty came as a matter of course. lu passing sentence he 
drew a distinction between the crimes of the tw'o prisoners. 

“liou,” he said, addressing Meggitt, “are the most culpable. 
Through you an innocent man has been sufiering severe but un- 
merited punishment. Through your < riminal weakness and want 
of principle a respectable old firm has been pulled down, and num- 
bers of too-confiding people robbed and ruined. 1 feel it my duty 
to mark my sense of the enormity of the crimes you have committed 
by an exemplary sentence; and 1 do therefore direct that you be 
kept in penal servitude tor twenty years.’’ 

A slight tremor passed over Meggitt’s face, and a faint shriek 
was heard in the gallery. It was from a lady closely veiled — Mrs. 
Waldo. 

“ As for you, Devas, an habitual criminal, who know already 
the interior of many jails, imprisonment has, I fear, no terrors. 
But it was you, 1 believe, -who originated this vast scheme of fraud, 
and it was to your baleful influence that your miserable confederate 
succumbed. 1 shall therefore treat you to your deserts, and now 
sentence you to penal servitude for fifteen years.’’ 

Thus ended the second great case in which Waldo’s bank was 
concerned. 

But there was a sequel to the trial. 

Late! that same day a nt at brougham drove up to the door of 
Millbank Prison. Sir Richard Daunt alighted from it; he was ad- 
mitted, and ushered into the presence of the governor, to whom he 
handed a letter from the Home Secretary, 

“ 1 was allowed to bring you this personally,’’ said Daunt, “ so 
as to expedite Mr. Surtees’s release. May 1 hope that no time will 
be lost in setting him free?’’ 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


219 


“ It tvill merely be necessary for Iiim to change. We have 
‘ liberty ’ clothing always ready, and then he can go with you." 

Ill iCoB than naif an hour J\Ir. Surtees, greatly agitated by the 
unexpected good news, appeared, and, taking Sir Richard’s arm, 
Walked out from the prison a free man. 

.Icsephine, who was in the brougham, wailing, fell into her 
laihei’s arms, and the two were driven rapidly home to Chiswick. 


CHAPTER XXX’Vlll. 

CONCLUSION. 

A FEW words as to the most prominent personages in this vera- 
cious narrative. 

Josephine soon consented to make Daunt happy. Why should 
they wait? asked Sir Richard, pertinently They had everything 
they could want; loving hearts loo long separated; ample means; 
and Mr. Surtees was there to bless and approve of their union. 

The marriage was a very quiet one. Helena W aldo consented 
to act as bride-maid, and Bob Surtees was Haunt’s brst man. 

“ Tou are well worthy of each other,’’ said old Mr. Surtees, as 
he saw their hands joined. “ She has ever been the most devoted 
daughter, and j’^uu have proved yourself the best of sons.” 

Secure in the affectionate ministrations of his children, Mr. Sur- 
tees passed the autumn of his days in calm contentment. The 
storms and trials which had sorely oppressed him were forgolleu, 
and he could pity and torgive the authors of his troublcB. 

The rv’aters closed over the Waldos. Mr. Waldo was made a 
baukrupl, and eventually paid fifteen pence in the pound. Tlio 
family went to live at Brighton in Ditchling Rise. Then after tier 
poor old father’s death. Bob Surtees came for Helena, and married 
her in spite ot Mrs, Waldo’s persistent objections to the match. 
B >1) has stuck to the theatrical profession, and now manages one 
of Mr. Bonastre’s traveling companies. Both Clara and Augusta 
married in the long run, one a commercial traveler, the other a 
dasliing sergeant of Light Dragoons. 

Captain Wingspur went to India with an infantry regiment, and 
died there, a drunkard and in debt, long before the title fell in. 
Lord Wingspur prored very long-lived; and he is still, bin with 
greatly reduced means, a chief ornameut of a Freuch ivglerjn^* 
place on lire Bfittan^ coast. 


220 


FAST AND LOOSE. 


Both IMeggitt and Dcvas, alias Leon LantimOche, atler their 
sentence passed out of stglit. The last heaid ot the former was at 
Dartmoor, where he was busily engaged with a few hundreds of 
his own sort reclaiming w'aste lands on which nothing would grow. 

As (or Devas, alias Leon LautimScbe, he came to an untimely 
e nd. His fate was recorded in the following hiief lines from the 
\Veymouth correspt'ndeut ot a daily paper: 

“Fracas at Porti-and.— Ifesterday, as a party of convicts 
were working on the Verne, one of them, who owed his warder a 
grudge for some fancied wrong, made a murderous assault on liim 
w ilh a cold chisel. The warder defended himself with his sword, 
and cut hrs assailant down. Tire convict, who was named Joseph 
Devas, was mortally w'ounded and has siijce expired.” 

With Leon died the secret ot his ill-gotten wealth. The place 
where it is concealed has never transpired, and whether it will 
some day unexpectedly enrich a treasuie-hrrnter, or whetirer it will 
pass itnclainied into the assets of the hank where it is lodged, at 
home or abroad, the future alone can tell. 


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The foregoing works are for sale by all newsdealers, or will lie 
sent l)y mud on receipt of price, 25 cents each. Address 

^ GEORGE MUNRO’S SONS, Munro’s Publishing House, 

(). Hnx arsl.t 17 to 27 Vandewater St., New York. 













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